Don't Look Back Into the Sun
by EmiEllie
Summary: Set at the end of the summer between seasons one and two, this story is my take on the characters' emotions and actions in the weeks leading up to the White Party. Dan and Chuck deal with the consequences of their decisions, whilst Serena and Nate have some choices to make themselves. Blair returns from Europe with a new game to play. SB, CB, DSN. DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.
1. All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone

**N/B: some of the events and diaglogue from this chapter are taken from or loosely based on episode 2x01.**

* * *

Chapter One

All of a Sudden I Miss Everyone

Serena strolled languidly along the hot white sands of Cooper's beach, watching the waves lap up just off the shoreline, which was moving increasingly close as the evening drew on. Her silky sarong flapped relentlessly around long, lean, golden legs as she decided on an appropriate spot to sit down and read her novel. She found that by the time she had gotten to the bottom of each page, she had drifted off entirely and forgotten what she had just read. She wondered if her own relationship with Dan Humphrey would be like that of Fermina and Florentino from _Love in the Time of Cholera._ She thought she could live with the knowledge that she and Dan may reunite someday, when they were old and wise, knowing that theirs was the most pure, honest, and romantic type of love. But it had only been three months since that dreadful wedding, and it already felt like a lifetime since she had held the man she loved as they moved rigidly across the dance floor, too afraid to admit that once the music stopped, they would let go of one another and all the ties that once bound them so strongly together would fall away. Serena was still uncertain about why their relationship had failed so drastically. Having thought Dan was the most sympathetic and compassionate person she had ever met, she expected he would be able to understand her reasons for being dishonest with him, and grateful that she had told him everything eventually.

Temporarily lost in her thoughts, Serena hadn't been paying much attention to her surroundings, but when she regained full control of her senses, she became acutely aware of a group of giggling girls nearby. Of course, she was unsurprised to hear the deep baritone of her stepbrother intermingled with the high-pitched, playful laughter. _Stepbrother, _she thought again to herself, with such revulsion she physically shuddered. It wasn't like Serena to be frosty with people; she spent most of her time flashing her irresistibly warm smile, laughing at inane chit-chat, and making even strangers feel beyond comfortable in her presence. But something about Chuck Bass did not quite sit right with her temperament. Perhaps it was that he had royally screwed over her best friend, or maybe it was because the flirtatious ambiguity of their new quasi-sibling relationship made her feel uneasy around him. Serena felt like Chuck's personality had been swept up by the breeze and it was being blown right in her direction. So she gathered her belongings and made for the path, passing Chuck on her way. "Chuck," she greeted him tepidly.

"Hello, Serena," he responded casually.

"I don't think Bart would be pleased to see his son sprawled out on a beach surrounded by four topless women," Serena glowered at him. Chuck knew that Serena's comment had more to do with what Blair Waldorf would think than his father's opinions. He attempted to control the smirk that started to spread across his face.

"If you must be sanctimonious, sister-of-mine," – Serena winced at the almost-affectionate, teasing term of endearment – "you could at least be wearing more than a handkerchief yourself." Chuck looked Serena up and down with admiration, as she tugged self-consciously at the translucent, silky material in a wasted attempt to cover more of her body.

"I don't suppose this annoying attitude of yours has anything to do with the impending return of Blair, does it?" Serena scoffed. Chuck attempted to feign disinterest in Blair but, in truth, he hadn't thought of anything else all summer. He wasn't sleeping or eating properly and, when he thought about how horribly he had treated her last spring, his stomach would twist into tight knots. It was happening right now. _Why am I such a dick? _Chuck thought. Momentarily Chuck realised what Serena had just said... _Blair is coming home. _His lips started to pucker at the corners, and a little smile was beginning to spread across his face. _Must not smile. _Chuck bit the insides of his mouth to stop the smile from morphing into a visible grin. He couldn't back down from this icy confrontation with Serena now.

"And I don't suppose your lack of humour has anything to do with Humphrey?" Serena almost jumped back in response to that name. Of course she had thought about it a million times that summer, but her family had avoided saying it aloud at all costs, knowing that it might cause a fit of hysteria, like the one she could feel building in her chest at that very moment. But she wouldn't give Chuck the satisfaction of seeing her cry, or even come close to losing control of her emotions. Serena wondered whether hearing Blair's name had the same effect on Chuck. _Probably not, _Serena decided, _he's a dick._

* * *

Lady Catherine pulled the sleek, silver Saab around into a discreet driveway on the cul-de-sac. Her husband was home and she couldn't risk being caught in a steamy embrace with a 17-year-old boy in the pool house. By the time she's secured the handbrake, Nate's shirt was already unbuttoned and his pants were round his knees. As Catherine swiftly and sexily threw her leg over Nate's lap, she clipped the car horn with her heel. Blinds twitched in the neighbourhood as several curious residents heard the piercing sound. The two of them laughed for a moment before Catherine whispered, "we better make this quick, I only have ten minutes." Nate set to work, placing warm, soft kisses on her neck. She threw her head back as he started unbuttoning her blouse and pulling it off her shoulders. He moved to focus his attention on them; then her chest. His hands fluttered chaotically over her curvaceous waste and hips, which were covered in a light layer of perspiration already, due to the hot temperature in the car. Catherine started to become impatient. Pulling up her skirt and moving aside her thin lacy panties, she grabbed his hand, forcing his attention south. "You have so much to learn," she breathed lasciviously into his ear.

"I look forward to you teaching me," he replied in the most seductive tone he could muster, though this dirty talk was really not his area of expertise. He was insecure because she was right: he knew nothing about sex, and it seemed like she knew everything. Nate had only slept with two other girls. Serena had deflowered him on a bar-stool at a society couple's wedding and she subsequently disappeared to boarding school, not to return for nine months. The only consolation was that Serena actually left because she thought she'd killed a man, not because he was so useless that it had literally driven her out of town. He hardly asserted his masculinity the only time he'd had sex with Blair either. She took the lead, even though he was the one doing the deflowering in that instance. At least that's what he thought at the time, the news of Blair's steamy night of passion with Chuck not making its way on to Gossip Girl until a later date.

Catherine took Nate's response as her cue. The frenzied act was over within a matter of minutes._ That was adequate, _she thought.

For just a moment, they were completely still and silent, except for the sound of Nate's uneven breathing, until Catherine abruptly moved her weight from Nate's lap and returned to the drivers' seat. Metaphorically, she'd never left the drivers' seat – whether it was the car's engine or Nate's, Catherine was always in control. "Are you sure your girlfriend's okay to keep covering for us?" she asked, betraying only a very mild hint of concern.

Nate rolled his eyes and smiled in good humour. "She's not my girlfriend," he responded, "but Serena is happy to help me keep this relationship under wraps. Pretending we're dating means I can spend time with you, whilst she avoids the humiliation of Gossip Girl documenting her heartache."

"And she knows nothing... about us?" Catherine demanded.

"No, she hasn't shown the faintest interest in why I want to keep this quiet." Nate was confused by Catherine's sudden anxiety. Serena was one of his oldest friends and he knew she could be trusted with all of his secrets.

"Well, you ought to leave now," Catherine suggested bluntly (though it was really more of an order than a request). "I'll call you when my husband has left town."

A bedraggled, barely-dressed Nate clambered out of the car, pulling his pants up as he watched Catherine speed off down the road. She had barely given him a second glance before leaving and, considering he'd just gotten lucky, Nate's mood was tainted with despondency.

* * *

Serena and Eric were sat in wicker armchairs on CeCe's patio, discussing the events of their day casually with their grandmother. Eric had been schooled at croquet by both Nate and Chuck that morning, and spent the rest of the day relaxing by the pool. Serena was in the process of describing her shopping trip and the beautiful, Grecian-style dress she had bought for the White Party, when she noticed Chuck sauntering out onto the patio in her peripheral vision. His mere presence made her skin prickle. "Ah, Charles, so glad you could join us dear," Serena's grandmother welcomed him enthusiastically, rising from her armchair and tottering towards him with such vigour, anyone would have thought he was CeCe's lost gin vessel. Eric had already thought as much: _she's heading for that tumbler of scotch. _Serena clearly did not share her grandmother's sentiments. Flopping back into her armchair and flailing her hands slightly, she released an audible snort. "Nice to see you wearing clothes, Serena," Chuck drawled sardonically. She glared back with such fervour she could feel her retinas burning. He simply laughed. CeCe disappeared into the house, presumably to find an _actual _bottle of gin; leaving a confused Eric to deal with the tension between an inexplicably furious Serena, and a thoroughly amused Chuck.

"What has gotten into you two?" Eric questioned, without mirth.

"Nothing brother," Chuck replied with a quick smile, "your sister's sense of humour simply appears to have melted in the sun... or it's been washed out to sea."

Serena's calm facade fell away and she burst out in exasperation: "You know why I'm angry at you, Chuck. And if you had shown even the slightest bit of remorse for how you treated Blair, perhaps I'd laugh at your crude jokes. But you haven't, and it's really starting to piss me off."

Both boys were dumbfounded by this sudden outburst; neither one of them wanted to be the first to speak. Eric twiddled with his thumbs; Chuck took a deep swig of scotch. Just then, three different phone alerts, chiming in chorus, abruptly ended the conversation. _Thank God, _Eric thought to himself as the three of them pulled out their cells.

_It seems Blair Waldorf is spending the last week of her European road trip soaking up the Parisian sunshine with a coterie of Gaultier's finest. And we all know that French is the language of love. __Vauvenargues once said__ "__L'orgueil est le consolateur des faibles."_ _Too bad you just lost yours, C. xoxo__ Gossip Girl_

The blast was accompanied by a photo of Blair surrounded by six tall, muscular, all-round perfect men, the Eiffel Tower visible in the background.

Serena wandered off, looking down at her phone and sniggering triumphantly. Chuck was frozen in place, unable to look up from the blast, jealousy and self-loathing twisting together in his eyes. _Karma's a bitch._

* * *

Long, silky, mahogany curls hung loosely over the narrow shoulders of the pretty, petite girl. Her pale, creamy complexion was flawless and dewy; her small, round face was serene; her deep brown doe-eyes were pensive; and her full, coral lips were puckered into a semi-pout, semi-smile, conveying a mingled sense of confusion and intrigue. The undeniably beautiful Blair Waldorf was standing entirely alone in the Louvre museum, staring at arguably the most famous portrait ever created. Never having given it much thought on her previous visits to the museum, Blair now wondered at the woman's inscrutable expression. _Why is she smiling? _Personally, she thought 'Mona Lisa' looked smug; kind of like Chuck Bass after sex. _Why am I thinking about Chuck... again?_ Over the last ten weeks, Blair had travelled the continent, absorbing some of the most incredible architecture, art, and culture each city had to offer. But as much as she tried to keep thoughts of Chuck out, he somehow found his way back in. She saw him everywhere. She could see him drinking scotch in the grand courtyards of the Alhambra. She imagined him awaking her from her slumber with a tender kiss in the highest tower of the Neuschwanstein Castle. Even a visit to the Leaning Tower of Pisa had inspired an uncomfortable Chuck-centric, Freudian fantasy.

Blair sighed. She couldn't abide looking at the portrait any longer, and even the Musée du Louvre itself was beginning to feel claustrophobic, in spite of its grand proportions, high ceilings, and the bright afternoon sun streaming through the expansive roof-lights. Blair pirouetted to face the exit of the museum, and glided gracefully towards it. Stepping out into the streets felt like being reborn and she realised the possibilities for the afternoon were endless. Blair hailed a taxi, deciding she would spend the afternoon at the Eighth Arrondissement. She had already visited the Eiffel Tower, and wanted to take in the view from the top of the Arc de Triomphe. Of course she would have to make a quick stop at _Chloé _to purchase some more appropriate footwear if she wished to make it up all 280 steps without spraining an ankle. She looked down at her patent red, peep-toe, six-inch-heel Alexandre Birman's in appreciation. _Eurgh, flat shoes, _she thought. After the Arc de Triomphe, she would call Harold and ask him to dine with her at Les Elysées du Vernet. _The perfect afternoon; _her lips puckered into a gentle smile and her eyes fluttered shut, relishing the fairytale.

* * *

Jeremiah Harris was striding round the crowds of people, reading affectedly from his new novel, _Pacific. _As much as Dan enjoyed his supervisor's writing, he thought the man was a pompous jackass; now a trail of Eau de Prétentieux was permeating into the carpets of his favourite book store. Harris had purposely chosen to read from Dan's favourite chapter, but the young intern had barely noticed. In between his daydreams about Serena van der Woodsen, he was being distracted by a small, dark-haired girl who was standing across the room. She was clearly interested in him too, eyes glittering, lips pouting as she glanced at him coyly. Over the last few months, Dan had adopted Chuck's coping-mechanism: womanising and hard liquor. It was working about as well as it worked for Chuck. Temporary numbness followed by pangs of guilt and intensified pain. But Dan was afraid to face the truth: he had made a huge mistake. Breaking up with his beautiful, intelligent, vivacious girlfriend had been the single most stupid thing he had ever done, and he knew that some random girl wouldn't be able to fill the Serena-shaped hole in his heart. The dark-haired girl was probably perfectly attractive, he thought, but once you've experienced the goddess Aphrodite, some jolly forest nymph could never live up to expectations. _Why am I such a dick?_

Having had his head stuck in the clouds for at least the last ten minutes, Dan hadn't realised that Jeremiah had stopped reading and everyone around him was clapping. He was brought back into the real world by a small hand lightly grasping his forearm, which was hanging limply by his side. Looking up, he saw that it was the dark-haired girl from across the room. She was beaming at him broadly, but the smile appeared banal and her charm was prosaic. Her eyes weren't as soft as Serena's. Her smile didn't dazzle the way Serena's did. Her lips weren't as smooth, and full, and pink. Her skin didn't have the same golden glow. She didn't stand tall, statuesque like a sculptor's impression of a Greek goddess. She didn't exude the same air of natural confidence and charisma. Serena's beauty – both external and internal – was unparalleled in Dan's mind. Suddenly, he realised that this girl must have spoken to him. She was staring at him, eyebrows furrowed in anticipation and confusion. "Hi, sorry about that. I'm Dan." He was hoping that the unusually long silence hadn't made her uncomfortable. "Sophie," she held her hand out in response. _Sophie, how mundane, _Dan thought, but he took her hand in his own and shook it gently. Her smile widened again.

The cordial introduction was interrupted by Jeremiah. "Daniel, a word," Jeremiah commanded coolly.

"Well, I better get back to the old ball and chain. It was nice to meet you Sophie," Dan smiled weakly."Perhaps we'll see each other again."

"Oh, I'll make sure we do," Sophie giggled. Most guys would have been amused by her jovial personality, but Dan just thought she seemed pathetic and unintelligent.

He stepped towards Jeremiah. "Mr Harris, an excellent turnout," he commented, looking round at the attendees who were now chattering amongst themselves.

"Yes, it's been quite the event." He was smug. "I read from your favourite chapter... Though I suppose you were otherwise engaged."

_What an asshole, _Dan thought, but he kept his tone polite. "I've read that chapter so many times, it feels like I wrote it myself."

Jeremiah laughed mildly, in part because of the implicit compliment, but mostly because it amused him that the intern had the audacity to compare himself to a New York Times bestselling author. "Well, actually, that's what I wanted to talk to you about," the smug author started. "How is that short story of yours coming along?"

"It's getting there, Mr Harris. It just needs... some polishing." "How about you take the rest of the day off to work on it?"Dan was pleased by this suggestion; he'd seen enough of Jeremiah's smug face for one day. "And it'll be ready for... let's say... tomorrow afternoon?"

_Oh crap. _He started to panic. The likelihood of him finishing his story by tomorrow was roughly equivalent to the chances of hell freezing over or pigs flying. He had been blocked for weeks, in a way that he had never experienced before. He would sit at his laptop for hours – typing one sentence, deleting three more. He hadn't had an inspiring idea for a story in months, let alone the coherent stream of thought necessary for him to put it into words. "Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea," Dan responded automatically. _No, it doesn't. What am I going to do?_

* * *

He was running his large, strong hands over her slender shoulders, his soft mouth caressing her neck with hard, fervent kisses. He eagerly explored the curve of her jaw-line with the tip of his warm tongue. She could feel and hear his rough breathing against her ear, sending shivers of electricity down her spine. All of her surroundings and all of her senses were over-powered by him; his rich, heady aroma; his firm abdomen pressed against her own; legs intertwined; the low rumble of pleasure building in his throat; the occasional double-beat of his heart against her own. Blair's whole body arched towards the beautiful man lying atop her, satiating her every desire. She felt like she'd already had too much of him; yet somehow it wasn't enough. She tried to push their bodies closer together and groaned in yearning when she couldn't quite get close enough. "Patience," his voice was velvety against her neck. He was slowly starting a trail of burning kisses across her protruding collarbone; then across the satiny, ivory skin of her chest, breathing in the intoxicating scent of her perfume; he ran his lips lightly over the top of her pert, bare breasts. Her heart started to beat erratically, anticipation coursing through her veins, moist heat intensifying between her thighs. He took one small, pink nipple into his mouth; her body quivered as he gently nibbled and suckled. His trail wound across the prickling skin of her tummy; her patience being tested as he worked his way closer to the burning heat between her legs. She let out an eager moan, her fists balling up in his coarse, dark hair, trying to pull him in the right direction. His own hands were gliding along the outsides of her supple thighs, her legs stiffening further at his soft touch. "Please," Blair whimpered, unable to tolerate the scolding between her legs any longer. She was desperate to feel his mouth relieve the burn. Heeding her plea, he moved his rapturous kisses to her inner thighs. As his mouth reached her cleft, she drew in a sharp breath, her whole body humming with pleasure, and desire, and exhilaration.

Blair was roused from her slumber by the persistent buzzing of her BlackBerry on the nightstand, and her fantasy of Chuck evaporated into the hot air of the Parisian château. Pulling back her silk, lilac eye mask, she reached out for the flashing device and immediately pressed 'accept' without checking the caller. "Hello?" she enquired, her voice thick with sleep.

"Hey, B!" The familiar, ebullient voice of her best friend came across the line.

"Serena, you are aware that Paris is in a different time zone to the Hamptons?" Blair asked, half-teasing half-pissed off that Serena had woken her from her guilty fantasy.

"Yes. Six hours, right? That makes it... what... 9.30?" Blair hadn't realised it was so early. She moved her phone away from her ear to check the time. 21:34.

"Oh sorry, I must have fallen asleep. I've been on the go all day. How are you anyway? I miss you." Blair really did miss Serena. Since Chuck never arrived in Tuscany, Blair had spent most of the summer alone, with the exception of her daily correspondence with hotel staff, waiters, and the occasional local-person who offered to show her around or invited her to dinner. But as soon as she closed the door of her suite behind her, she was on her own, accompanied by her thoughts alone. Of course, she wouldn't let anyone know how miserable her summer vacation had been... not even Serena.

"I miss you too, B. I can't wait for you to get back, actually. I've barely seen Nate all summer. He's been... busy," her facial expression contorted as she realised she had received no explanation for Nate's absence. "And Chuck has been working my last nerve." Blair squirmed on the other end of the line. Somehow Serena has sensed her response. "Oh, sorry B."

"It's okay. How is he?" Blair couldn't resist asking.

"Chuck?" Serena paused in contemplation, "He's an ass."

Blair responded with an exasperated sigh, as if to say: _I know that. What else?_

Serena recognised its meaning. "Okay, well, he's putting a good face on. But I think..." She wasn't sure whether to continue.

"Yes? What do you think?" Blair was impatient.

"I _think _he... might... miss you."

Blair pressed her fingers into the corners of her mouth, trying to stop the smile from spreading across her face. _Why am I smiling? _She managed to convince herself that she was just glad that Chuck was suffering, like she had been all summer. Blair huffed. "I don't care," she replied haughtily.

"Yes you do, Blair. You don't have to pretend with me. I know how it feels to lose the person you care about most," Serena said sympathetically.

_Eurgh, pity, _Blair thought. She didn't have some lame, needy infatuation with Chuck the way that Serena had with humdrum Humphrey. _I'm Blair Waldorf, for Christ's sake. _"Yes, well, I'm not you am I? And going stag on a European road trip does have its advantages."

Serena ignored Blair's snide remark. "Ah yes, the Gaultier models... Chuck was fuming." Blair could tell that her best friend was trying to provoke a response and she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Fortunately Gossip Girl had omitted the true reason Blair was snapped with the models. She had been daydreaming as she was walking across the Champ de Mars, too busy taking in the view and trying her utmost to push all thoughts of Chuck Bass out of her mind, and had by chance walked straight through a group of male models shooting an advertising campaign. The gorgeous men were amused by her ditsy-ness, but Blair's cheeks had flushed with embarrassment. She was still somewhat mortified by the incident, so she wasn't going to share the details with Serena now.

The two girls continued to talk at length about the events of the past week since they had spoken last. Blair told Serena about the Eighth Arrondissement, the Eiffel Tower, the designer boutiques, and Harold and Roman's vineyard. Blair laughed at Serena's comical tales of a now permanently inebriated CeCe. They discussed arrangements for the White Party and Blair's annual back-to-school sleepover. Serena and Blair spent over an hour guffawing delightedly in a way that neither one of them had in a long time. Eventually the two broken-hearted best friends said goodbye (and goodnight for Blair, too) and hung up their phones.

Blair flopped back into her duck down pillow, releasing a huge sigh. She laid still for a long five minutes, letting her mind wander back onto forbidden territory. After almost three months of fighting against thoughts of Chuck, she realised it was time to face the truth. She loved him. Even though he'd hurt her, she still wanted him as much as she had three months ago. But she couldn't allow herself to be weak and crawl back to Chuck, begging like a pathetic love-sick puppy.

_Fortunately, Queen B has a Plan B. _Chuck would have to earn his way back into her affections, and she knew exactly how she was going to play this situation.

* * *

Across the Atlantic, Serena was sitting cross-legged on her bed, thinking wistfully of her recent conversation with Blair. It already felt like a distant memory, probably because the coming week was going to feel like a really long one. In all likelihood, Nate would be inexplicably absent, Eric would be quiet as usual, CeCe would be wasted, and Chuck would be Chuck. Leaving Serena feeling completely isolated. _Shut up, Serena. You sound like a lugubrious idiot, _she chastised herself.

Serena forced out an exaggerated puff of air, as if to cleanse herself of the ridiculous self-pity that was eating her up. _You're stronger than this. _She leant over to pick up her book from her bedside table. She had only read about ten pages when she heard a hesitant tap at her door. _This better not be Chuck. _When the door cracked open, she was surprised to see Nate. He stood in the doorway for a minute, his blond-streaked hair dishevelled and his tall, strong physique looking every inch the male model. A glistening boyish grin spread across his face as he zoned in on the beautiful blonde girl sitting on the bed. _He really is quite handsome, _Serena decided.

"Hey." Nate greeted her timidly. "How you doing?"

"I'm good," she lied. "What's up in Nate-land?"

He moved to sit beside her on the bed. "No you're not. You might be able to pull that crap on Blair, but I always know when you're hiding something."

Serena smiled mildly. She wasn't putting on a facade in order to prove Nate wrong. It was an acceptance of just how right he was. In that moment, Serena was happy that Nate knew her, that he could see her in a way that only one other person had been able to. Most people thought of Nate as the charming, lovable idiot; his patchouli-addled brain unable to sense even the most obvious atmosphere. But he wasn't thick, and when it came to Serena he was particularly astute. "You got me," she conceded.

"You miss Dan?" Nate looked slightly uncomfortable broaching the subject. It was in part because he'd spent so many of his teenage years loving Serena that it was difficult to imagine her with anybody else. Mostly he just didn't want to risk saying anything that might upset her.

"Yeah... and Blair," she added. She couldn't figure out why, but for some reason Serena didn't want Nate in particular to see just how broken up she was over Dan.

Nate nodded his head understandingly, knowing that he shouldn't force the issue. If Serena had wanted to talk to him, she would have volunteered more information. It wasn't in her nature to hold back when something was on her mind.

"How are things with your secret lover?" Serena asked teasingly, giving him a little nudge with her shoulder and winking at him.

"Don't even ask," he huffed. "I don't know how to keep up with her. She's like hot-then-cold all the time."

Serena looked at him questioningly, waiting for him to explain further.

"So yesterday, we were... _you know?_" Serena nodded in understanding, not wanting him to go into greater detail. "And she seemed into it and everything. But then when we'd finished, she threw me out the car with my pants around my ankles."

Serena quirked her left eyebrow in an amusement, rather than judgement. "Why were you having sex in a car?"

Nate was at a peculiar loss for words. He didn't know how to explain his way out of this one. _I'm an exhibitionist. No, she'll never believe that. Her house has been repossessed... stupid, really stupid. _Eventually, he settled for honesty. "Full disclosure?" he asked, pulling an obvious _don't judge me _face.

"Oh please... we don't keep secrets, Nate. And we _definitely _don't judge each other." She smiled at him for reassurance, but he didn't need it. Nate knew that Serena was trustworthy and she was the least judgemental person he had ever known.

"Well, she's older," he finally confided. Serena shrugged, not grasping the full extent of his confession. "And she's married."

Serena snorted with a short fit of laughter, before realising Nate's face was completely deadpan. She recovered herself, finally saying, "I'm not judging you Nate, I never would. But are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"No," his weak smile resembled the one Serena had mustered earlier. She couldn't stand the hopeless look that was spreading across _her_ Nate's face, but she didn't know what to say to make him feel better. So she reached out towards him and threw her long, willowy arms around his neck, pulling him in for a tight embrace. For the briefest of moments, he was unresponsive to her touch. Then he dropped his head against her shoulder and stretched his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her closer to him. Nate had never felt so content as he did when he was in Serena's arms. It felt natural, which was surprising considering how messed up their friendship had been over the last couple of years. Between the Shepherd wedding, Serena fleeing to boarding school, and a very messy relationship with Blair, their friendship had almost crumbled completely. Last year the tension was palpable when they were in a room together, not to mention that one time he had tried to hold her hand. Now the atmosphere around them was tranquil and the long embrace was cosy.

Just then, there was another rap on the door. Serena and Nate pulled away from one another abruptly, as if they were unsettled by the thought of someone witnessing the intimate moment. CeCe peered round the door. "Come on dear, we're having an early supper," she said, looking at Serena. "Will you be joining us Nathaniel?" Serena smiled at him expectantly and he responded, "I would like that Mrs Rhodes." At once, CeCe disappeared again. Serena bounded to her feet quickly, brimming with newfound enthusiasm. She was glad Nate had visited. She flashed him another glorious smile, grabbed his hand, and towed him behind her. _God, she's beautiful _he thought.

* * *

In the early evening Dan Humphrey burst through the door of his father's loft apartment like a bull in a china shop. He completely ignored Jenny – who was sat at the dining table with a large box of assorted buttons – as he stormed towards his room with an unfathomable look on his face.

"_Oh, hey Jenny, how was your day?_" his younger sister mimicked sarcastically. "Great thanks Dan," she answered herself with mock enthusiasm. She rolled her eyes as if to say _grumpy bastard. _Jenny had no sympathy for Dan's present moroseness. What sort of moron would dump _Serena van der Woodsen, _the funniest, prettiest, _most popular _girl at Constance?

And she just couldn't wait to find out how her brother's behaviour would affect her own social status. When Dan and Serena were dating, she had welcomed Jenny into her little friendship group unquestioningly and asked the other girls to be nice to her. Now both Jenny and Dan had reverted back to being Brooklyn nobodies. _Cheers, bro._

But this blame-game was also a means for avoiding her own issues concerning Serena's younger brother, Eric. The pangs of guilt over their disagreement last spring had gradually grown sharper and more frequent as the summer drew on. Jenny had tried to preoccupy herself with her work at Eleanor Waldorf Designs, but her super-bitchy supervisor, Laurel, just added to her aggravation, turning her into a hot mess of fury and shame.

Momentarily, Dan returned from his bedroom looking more composed than five minutes earlier. "What's got your boxers in a bunch?" Jenny asked mockingly. She didn't want to appear too concerned.

Dan looked daggers at her and bluntly replied, "I'm blocked."

"I wonder why that might be," Jenny commented, her words laced with unspoken significance.

"I'm dealing with it," Dan shot back defensively.

"If your definition of _dealing with it _means jumping from bed to bed, then sure."

"It really is none of your business, Jenny."

"One might think that, but since I'm the one having to live with your bad temper..."

Dan cut her off. "Like you're dealing with Eric?"

Jenny wanted to bite back, but she knew her brother was right. The only way to solve her own issues would be to tackle them head on, starting with a phone call to her former best friend. Of course, that was easier said than done. Their detachment from one another had lasted far longer than expected, and neither one of them had extended an olive branch. Jenny was being stubborn just because that was her default setting in a disagreement like this. Eric was actually hurt. A small, fiery pit of self-loathing started to burn inside her stomach. _Someone should drop yoghurt on my head, Blair-style._

"I can't be bothered to argue with you in this blazing heat, Dan." Jenny was attempting to smooth things over because she really didn't want to alienate any more people she cared about. "So, what have you written so far?"

"Chapter One," Dan answered, not turning to meet his sister's gaze.

"Well, that's not bad," Jenny said encouragingly.

"I mean the words: "chapter" and "one.""

Jenny stifled a laugh and Dan stared at her gravely. She composed herself and attempted to think up an appropriate response. "Well, what's it about?"

"The dissolution of a relationship between two people from different worlds." Dan hurried the words out, not wanting to linger on the topic.

"That sounds... familiar," she replied. Jenny started to arrange her thoughts in her head, before continuing timorously: "Maybe the best way to get the creative juices flowing would be to talk to Serena. It might help you figure out why your relationship turned into such a cataclysmic disaster in the first place."

"You sound like Dad... but with less tact."

"Well somebody has to act like the man of the house while he's away... and you're definitely not doing a very good job of it."

"Thanks for the advice, Jen," – Dan sounded anything but thankful – "but I think I'll solve this one on my own."

Jenny narrowed her eyes indignantly as she watched her older brother skulk back into his bedroom and slam the door behind him. She was only trying to help and she'd phrased the suggestion as sensitively as possible. But this was the thanks that she got. _Well, he can just sulk in his room if that's what he wants, _she thought. It had occurred to her that the words of wisdom she'd spoken to Dan were just as applicable in her own situation. The thought of approaching Eric was making her feel uncomfortable, so she continued riffling through the box of buttons, humming a made-up tune, and forcing all thoughts of the van der Woodsens out of her mind.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. This is my first ever Fan Fiction, so it's a little rough around the edges. Reviews would be much appreaciated. Sorry to all the Chuck and Dan fans for this chapter being a little light on the Chuck and Dan. I've already started Chapter Two, which is going to be quite Chuck-centric and I already have plans for more Dan heavy chapters in the future.**

**N/B: the story title is a song by the Libertines. The chapter title is the title of the 5th album by Explosions in the Sky.**


	2. The Boy Who Ran Away

Chapter Two

The Boy Who Ran Away

Chuck and Eric were lounging by the swimming pool in the blazing mid-morning sun. The atmosphere was sticky and oppressive, leaving neither one of them with even enough energy to make conversation. It had been almost silent for over fifteen minutes, the faint chirping of crickets and flicking of pages being the only audible noise. Chuck had reduced his copy of _The Tipping Point _to a fan, running his thumb through the pages like you would a flip book, attempting to generate even the softest breeze. Failing in his endeavour to cool himself, he expelled a deep, frustrated sigh and reached for a towel to wipe away the few small beads of perspiration that had accumulated in his thin chest hair. Usually the heat wouldn't have bothered Chuck. Having spent most of his school breaks on vacation in exotic countries, or occasionally visiting his Uncle Jack in Australia, he was used to it. But for some indeterminable reason, the sweltering warmth was making him feel agitated.

Presently Serena appeared by the pool, wearing a yellow, knee-length chiffon dress and swinging a large black and white python-skin Ferragamo handbag. She looked stunning as ever and was in a much more cheerful mood than when Chuck had last seen her. "Grandma and I are going out for brunch. Are you two coming?" she asked, in a more than polite tone. Chuck had half been expecting her to ignore his existence completely given their confrontation at dinner the other day, but Serena was nothing if not capricious. He actually thought it was one of her best qualities – at least it kept people on their toes.

Eric jumped to his feet and walked towards the house to grab a shirt.

Chuck turned his head to face Serena. "Unfortunately I won't be joining this morning, I've made other plans."

"Oh," Serena sounded surprised. "Okay. Well, what are you doing?"

"Don't worry, it's nothing... unsavoury. Nathaniel is coming over."

He couldn't be sure, but Chuck thought that she looked a little crestfallen. "Tell him I said hi," she said, and then turned on her heels to head back towards the house.

Once the Rhodes-van der Woodsen clan had left, Chuck moved inside to get out of the sun. He'd only been uncaringly flipping through the endless television channels for about a quarter of an hour when the doorbell rang. He got up to answer it. "Hey man," Nate greeted him cheerfully.

"Hello Nathaniel, do come in." Chuck's tone always seemed quite formal, even with Nate, his lifelong best friend. It was probably something he'd unconsciously picked up from living with Bart for seventeen years. Chuck was perfectly aware that his father was a complete asshole but, being one of New York's most successful business tycoons, Bart Bass was an asshole with impeccable decorum.

Nate stepped into the manor-like house, heading straight towards the lounge and flopping casually onto the couch. Silence seemed to echo through the grand rooms. "Is Serena not around?" He attempted to imitate nonchalant interest, but Chuck noticed that Nate's voice seemed to catch in his throat a little. Chuck recalled how Serena's face had dropped when he'd told her that Nate was coming round. His physiognomy reconfigured into a probing eyebrow-quirk. "What?" Nate drawled back in affected surprise. It was astonishing to Chuck that his friend was so useless at playing dumb, considering the fact that 'dumb' would usually be his default setting.

Quite honestly, only someone as dim-witted as Nate would even consider putting his heart out there like that again. Did he not remember how this had ended for him circa '06? _Serenate disaster 2.0 _Chuck thought. This was the crucial difference between Nate Archibald and his misanthropic friend, Chuck Bass. Nate believed in taking risks, especially when it came to matters of the heart, and even more so when those matters involved Serena van der Woodsen. Yes, there was always going to be the possibility of him winding up heartbroken again but, if he didn't take his chances, he'd never know what could have been. Nate was kind of a hopeless romantic like that.

Chuck, on the contrary, didn't believe in putting his fate in others' hands, and he certainly didn't believe in putting his heart there. It was better to play safe and keep his dignity than to risk losing everything in the name of love. If he'd learnt one thing from his father, it was that love was always a man's greatest weakness. Ironically, this little jewel of false wisdom had been Chuck's undoing earlier in the summer.

He'd abandoned Blair on a helipad because he knew that he couldn't be the responsible, selfless boyfriend that she deserved. He hadn't quite been ready to leave behind his bad boy bachelor image, his merciless indulgence in women and fine scotch, or trade nights at Victrola for nights _cuddling _at the Waldorf penthouse. So why was it that, even though he'd managed to hold onto everything he'd thought he valued, he was feeling emptier than ever before? The scotch wasn't as smooth... and neither were the women.

Uncomfortable with the short silence and the look of reproach frozen on his best friend's face, Nate interrupted Chuck's internal monologue. "If you have something to say, you might as well have at it." There seemed to be a note of resignation in his voice, almost like he knew that unearthing his feelings for Serena would only end badly.

_I must be going soft in the head, _Chuck thought, because he actually felt pretty bad for Nate. He figured it was just his best friend's sentimentality rubbing off on him, but it still made his stomach churn a little. Chuck made a conscious effort to express his thoughts... sensitively. _Eurgh, what is happening to me?_

"I just think that maybe you should take the fact that you and Serena didn't work out last time as... a sign." Even Chuck didn't believe the words coming out of his mouth. _Signs are for the religious, the superstitious, and the lower class. _The words were echoing in his brain in an eerily familiar voice. It wasn't his own voice this time; it was Blair Waldorf's. _These are my thoughts, you can't be here. _He wondered if he was having some sort of psychotic break. Chuck shook his head vigorously in an attempt to expel all thoughts of Blair.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nate asked, befuddled.

"Nothing. Look, I care about three things, Nathaniel –" Nate cut him off, already knowing how this little speech ended.

"Money, the pleasures money brings you, and me. Right? I've heard that one before and it's a line of crap."

"Okay, I know what I did with Blair last year was... less than honourable, shall we say? But I'm not trying to ruin things for you so that I can ride off into the sunset with my dear stepsister. That's a little too incestuous... even for my liking." Chuck was surprised that the thought had even occurred to him, but then Nate never had been particularly astute.

"Actually, that's not what I meant. But thanks for the reassurance anyway. Appreciate it, man."

"What did you mean?" Chuck furrowed his eyebrows in intrigue.

"Well, since we're talking about girls anyway, I don't suppose there's any harm in me throwing my two cents in on your relationship issues." Chuck disagreed. There absolutely was harm in Nate throwing his two cents in on anything. Unless it was related to lacrosse or how to trim man bangs.

"I don't have any _relationship issues,_" Chuck protested, the last couple of words said with exaggerated revulsion.

Nate was undeterred and continued anyway. "Have you even spoken to Blair since she left for Europe?"

"Why would I have?"

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you told me that you loved her," Nate said sarcastically.

Chuck opened his mouth to answer with a typical Bass-like cutting remark, but he couldn't get the words out. He'd been outmanoeuvred – by Nate, of all people. It was true, he had blurted out those three little words on the day of his father's wedding. And then, in the heat of the moment, he'd dedicated an entire best man's speech to Blair; about second chances and not giving up on true love and all that crap. He had pretty much been spewing out grand romantic gestures like they were going out of fashion.

"I don't think she'd want to hear from me." Chuck settled with this as his response because he could hardly deny what Nate had heard him say and because he didn't want to lie by pretending he hadn't meant it either.

"Well, I think I know Blair pretty well," – _no you don't _– "and I think she'd at least want an explanation for why you abandoned her."

The problem was that Chuck really didn't have an explanation, or not one that he was willing to share. The truth was he'd been terrified of his feelings for Blair because he'd never experienced such intense emotion in his entire life. He hadn't even realised it was possible until that illustrious night in the back of his limo. More than that, he was terrified of her feelings for him. No one had ever accepted him the way that she did and he thought that if she spent the whole summer alone with him, that would somehow change. That she might... _see_ the real Chuck Bass. So he bailed on her.

* * *

Back in Brooklyn, Dan was sat at the breakfast counter in his loft apartment, furiously tapping away on the keys of his laptop. He'd decided to change the topic of his short story because, quite honestly, he didn't know where to start with the one about his and Serena's relationship. As much as it pained him to admit it (even to himself), Jenny was right about why he couldn't write that story. It was too close to him, and he couldn't stand the idea of a piece of prose sat there in black and white as a wicked reminder of the decision he'd made.

Of course, Serena hadn't been completely blameless, and he knew that. What she did was wrong, and could have had disastrous consequences for everyone involved. But he'd once told her that he loved her because she made no apologies for being exactly who she was. Now, that once so sweet proclamation of adoration smacked of insincerity. The whole reason their relationship had fallen apart was because he couldn't reconcile who he was with who Serena was, even though she had been able to accept him completely – faults and all.

Instead, Dan was writing about a depraved young man who indulged in sex and alcohol to escape the troubles of his past. The character was largely based on Chuck Bass because, though Dan couldn't stand the guy, he was probably one of the most interesting people he had ever met. Given that the only other people he knew anything about were his parents, his sister, Vanessa, Serena's family, and, to some extent, Nate and Blair, his inspiration was running low. He didn't want to hurt Serena further by doing an exposé on her pushy mother, her suicidal brother, or her self-important grandmother, so they were out of the question. Reading a memoir of his own family would bore Noah Shapiro to tears. Nate was too vacuous to entertain anybody. He thought that Blair had potential to be an interesting character, but he'd have to set aside his own personal opinion that her bitchiness was just a symptom of her being a spoilt daddy's girl. And given that his deadline for this piece was in three hours time, plucking a character _and_ a plot out of thin air was a tall order.

So Charlie Trout it was. That was the pseudonym Dan had decided upon. It was somewhat less sophisticated than the name 'Chuck Bass', but Dan had always found Chuck much more uncouth than his wealth and name might suggest – so it seemed appropriate.

The aspiring writer had already typed over a thousand words on the corruptive capacity of excessive wealth and the debauchery it inspired in his protagonist. But Dan was struggling with one crucial thing: _why _did Charlie Trout behave this way?He wanted his reader to be able to identify with the character, perhaps even pity him. Dan knew that there was a story here, but he couldn't quite figure it out. Unfortunately, the only person who could answer his questions would never consent to talking to him about it, let alone having his story presented to the editor of a distinguished publishing house. Not that Dan would want to trade life stories and family histories with Chuck, anyway.

_This is useless_, he thought. Every word he typed felt deliberate and forced, and then he just ended up deleting about seventy percent of them. He still couldn't understand why he was finding this particular assignment so challenging, even though it was no longer tied to his relationship with Serena. He'd written dozens of short stories before – why couldn't he just write a few thousand words now?

In a final attempt to salvage the story (and, by extension, his internship), Dan hurried into his bedroom to retrieve a bundle of hand-written manuscripts which he stored in a box underneath his bed. He was furiously flipping through them when Jenny marched through the door, looking like a woman on a mission.

"Hey Dan." No answer. "Dan?" She called again.

"In here, Jen." she followed the muffled voice into her brother's bedroom.

Dan was crouched down on the opposite side of his bed, his ass sticking up in the air so that it was just visible above the mattress.

"What the hell are you doing down there?" Jenny asked in confusion.

"More to the point, what are you doing home? Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

"I'm on my lunch, and I forgot my scrapbook this morning."

Just then, the younger Humphrey noticed the now jumbled sheaf of papers. "Are you looking for something?"

"Yeah, a short story I wrote a while back," he answered. "But I just can't seem to find it."

Dan's patience was starting to wear thin when, all of a sudden, he remembered what he'd done with the manuscript of _10-8-05._

He exhaled deeply with frustration and dropped his head into his palms. "I gave it to Serena."

Jenny shot him a sidelong glance, the words _I told you so _being conveyed telepathically. "Maybe the fact Serena is the one who keeps getting in the way of your success as a writer shows that you need to go and talk to her."

_That is the most absurd thing I have ever heard. _It wasn't like his writers' block or the missing story was his retribution for breaking up with Serena. Destiny, or God, or whatever, didn't work that way. Besides, it wasn't like Dan had really done anything to be punished for. If anything, his momentary lapse of faith had probably had the worst outcome for himself. His mistake _was_ his punishment.

"Well, I can't ask for it back, can I? And I'm running out of time anyway." Dan looked down at his watch. _Oh god, _two hours left to go, and that wasn't even accounting for the time it would take to get the subway into Manhattan.

Jenny bent down and carelessly grabbed a handful of loose papers. "Why can't you just use one of these?" Her face scrunched up, baffled by the actual problem. There were loads of papers for him to choose from.

"I can't just hand over any scrap of paper containing my most intimate musings." _Has she gone insane? _In that box were some of the most personal details of his relationship with Serena, from their first kiss, to the first time he told her he loved her. Whilst _10-8-05_ was still very close to his heart (and Serena's, as it happened), there was something less... superfluous in his expression of idolatry. Plus, it had already been finely honed into a state appropriate for Serena's eyes and, since he cared more about her opinion than anybody else's, he decided it wouldn't be too embarrassing to share it with Jeremiah and Noah.

"It doesn't look like you have a choice, does it?"

She was right; he had to either make a decision about which of the already completed stories to word process (he could edit some of the more gratuitously intimate parts as he was doing that) or he could attempt to finish his story about Charlie Trout. He sighed and snatched up some of the now crumpled pieces of paper, then headed back to his laptop at breakneck speed.

* * *

It was later afternoon in Paris and Blair Waldorf was sitting alone at a two-person table on the balcony at Le Comptoir du Relais, perusing the menu for a light bite to eat. Below, the Carrefour de l'Odéon was bustling with tourists, who were enjoying the blazing Parisian sunshine. Blair had retreated into the brasserie to avoid being jostled around and to cool off after her thirty minute walk from Le Marais, where she had been exploring the history of the French capital at the Carnavalet Museum, admiring the architecture of the Place des Vosges and the church of Saint-Gervais, and shopping for fine art and antiques for Serena. She resolutely clapped her menu shut, deciding that she wanted something sweet. In a few moments the waiter came over to take her order – the lemon and raspberry Dacquoise and a glass of sparkling elderflower.

Whilst waiting for her delicious treat to arrive, she delved into her white leather 'Marcie' shoulder bag to retrieve her 'Unofficial Guide to Paris', so that she could plan the remainder of her day. Even on vacation, Blair was obsessive over her schedule. She was meeting her father at the Odéon Théâtre de l'Europe to see the opening of Stéphane Braunschweig's stage adaptation of Molière's theatrical comedy _Taratuffe_. It had been Harold's idea and, whilst it wasn't the performance Blair would have chosen herself, she was happy to be spending time some time with just her father. Until then she had at least two hours to kill.

For a moment, the waiter returned with her order. _"Merci." "Bon Appétit."_ Blair eagerly sliced her dessert spoon into the layers of chewy meringue, lemon crème pâtissière and fresh raspberries, pushing it onto the spoon with the assistance of pastry fork. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she let out a satisfied _mmm_ as she pushed the spoon into her mouth and the delightful sweetness permeated her taste buds.

Blair continued to devour the dessert – looking surprisingly elegant whilst doing it – and leaf through the pages of her tourist guide. She was so preoccupied with her current tasks that she didn't even notice when a tall, handsome young man came and perched on the seat at the opposite side of her table. "Excuse me, Miss." Blair was startled by the soft, timid voice.

"Yes, can I help you?" The question was bitter, and she looked thoroughly disinterested by the man who was now gazing at her. Geniality didn't come naturally to Blair, especially with strangers who had just awakened her to reality and revived her duller senses.

He was undeterred by her coldness. "I couldn't help but wonder why such a beautiful young woman is eating dessert alone."

Whilst most women would have been flattered by such an overt compliment, Blair had no time for this garrulous, gawping imbecile. She rolled her eyes haughtily, but he didn't appear to notice.

The silence was becoming uncomfortable, so the man spoke again to compensate for Blair's apparent reticence (the notion of Blair Waldorf being _reticent_ would be amusing to anyone who actually knew her – the hard part was getting her to _shut up_). "I'm James," he introduced himself with a broad, friendly smile.

_Will this man never leave? _Apparently not. "Blair," she volunteered without warmth. It didn't really sound like an introduction; it was just a statement of fact with no room for further discussion. _Now please go away. _James stayed where he was, not even moving in his seat. _Well, he's clearly not a mind-reader._

"So whereabouts in the US are you from?" he asked. Until now, she hadn't even acknowledged his accent.

"Um, New York. You?" her frostiness was starting to thaw out a little, though she was continuing the conversation more out of good graces than genuine interest.

"Ah, I have family in and around New York. In fact, my father and step-mother live out on Long Island."

"I summer out in the Hamptons. I'm heading back there soon."

"Our house is in Southampton."

Her curiosity having increased slightly, they continued making polite conversation for a while, talking about their families, the most impressive buildings in New York ("The Rockefeller Centre," James said. "No, it's the Empire State Building," Blair countered), going to college, and their favourite European cities.

The young man was perfectly refined and quite attractive; over six foot tall, with broad shoulders, sandy blond hair, and greyish-coloured eyes. He went to Georgetown University and enjoyed art, literature, and travel. On paper, he would have been a perfect match for Blair Waldorf.

Yet, in reality, there was only one perfect match for her... one man who equalled her in wit, humour, power and ambition. He was the only person who could set her soul on fire and send blood coursing through her veins in torrid currents. Nothing could compare to the searing lust she felt in his arms. No one else could make her skin prickle or her heart race under the soft, warm caresses of his large, firm hands, or the fervent kisses he lavished over every inch of her body. No one compared to Chuck Bass.

Lost it her little dream-world, Blair had suddenly stopped responding to James's cordial questioning. She appeared to be staring out into empty space, with no person, object, or building as the target of her gaze. "Blair, Blair," James alerted her, moving his head from side-to-side in an attempt to meet her glassy eyes.

Blair shook herself out of her reverie. "Oh, I am sorry, I just... drifted off." She was now determined to escape the young man's company because, as affable as he was, she felt desperate to be alone again, consumed in her fantasy-land. _Population: Blair and Chuck. _

James was clearly enamoured by Blair and, in the past, that would have been enough for her. Having dated Nate – who was always more concerned with her best friend – since pre-school, all she'd wanted was for someone to see her the way that Nate saw Serena... or even in the way that Dan saw Serena (vile as the thought of Humphrey fawning over her was). And, in that moment, James was looking at her like she was the only girl in the world. But it wasn't enough anymore; nothing would ever be enough. Except Chuck. She couldn't shake him – as much as she'd spent the last ten weeks trying to – and she didn't want to turn James into another pawn in hers and Chuck's sadistic game of chess.

_Wait a minute._ _Chess... game... _A particularly disturbing idea started brewing in her brain. _No, I can't_. Except she could... and she was going to.

"Hey, James, how would you like to join me and my father for dinner tomorrow evening?"

Naturally the young man jumped at the opportunity to spend time with the beautiful Blair Waldorf and the father she had spoken so fondly of, at what he could only assume was the most opulent vineyard in the whole of the Île-de-France region.

_Gotcha! _She thought craftily – and she didn't mean James.

* * *

Nate had texted Serena to tell her to meet him at the beach in the early afternoon, after she'd finished dragging CeCe and a lackadaisical Eric around the several dozen boutiques lining Main Street. He was now sitting on the white-hot sand awaiting her arrival. For a while, he thought about what he was going to say to her – should he be honest about his feelings, or was that a little too much?

_Too much, _he thought. Nate didn't want to add confusion on to Serena's heartache; she needed him to be a friend to her. As much as it pained him to admit, Chuck had been right. Trying to force her hand when the wounds from her last relationship hadn't even healed yet would only end in disaster for him.

Nate started to fidget slightly – a mixture of nerves and impatience – as he looked down at his shiny, silver Rotary, which was refracting beams of iridescent light in every direction, under the glow of the bright afternoon sun. She was running late. He flopped down into the sand, attempting to soothe himself, and let out a languid sigh as he felt the warmth of the sand penetrating through his polo neck. He started to wave his arms and legs in and out, and in, and out, repeating the movements, which were carving out an angel in the sand, just like the ones he, Serena, and Blair used to make in the winter. Chuck was always too serious to join in. Besides, he was already wearing wool-blend suits by that age; not exactly appropriate attire for rolling around in the greyish New York snow.

Just then he heard someone giggling behind him. "What are you doing?" Serena asked, excitedly crashing into the sand beside him, knees first.

The pretty boy looked sheepish, like a child caught stealing candy. "Err, nothing." He resumed a sitting position.

"You can't stop now. I want to make one too." Serena put her hands on Nate's broad shoulders and pushed him back down, expending a great deal of energy as he playfully attempted to resist her. Eventually he relaxed his muscles and fell back into the sand, Serena collapsing atop of him under the impetus of her heaving.

The two of them were still for the briefest of moments. Nate looked up at her softly, his cerulean eyes brightening in awe of her beauty. Serena's eyes widened in discomposure and she hastily rolled her weight off his muscular body.

Serena couldn't understand why the minor incident had made her feel so flustered. It wasn't her modesty; she'd surrendered any sense of delicacy or decency long ago, and Nate had borne witness to it on at least one occasion. It certainly couldn't be guilt; Blair's feelings for Nate had been eclipsed by Chuck, and she no longer had any formal commitment to Dan. The thought of Dan caused a rapid pounding in her chest for a few seconds, before she exhaled deeply enough to regain control.

"Are you okay?" Nate had noticed the brief roughness in her breathing and fast rise and fall of her chest. He was secretly satisfied by how her body had responded to his.

"Yeah, I'm good," she said, turning her head to the side to face him and flashing the brightest smile she could muster.

Serena had the natural habit of infecting the people surrounding her with whatever mood she was in herself. The effect she had on Nate was particularly intense. He couldn't help but return a smile that mirrored hers perfectly. His too, portrayed a lingering sense of uncertainty, barely visible to the human eye. But Nate could feel it, just as surely as he could see it in Serena's expression.

They could both feel the tension that so often afflicted ambivalent relationships. The lines between friendship and romance had been blurred for years - since that night at the Shepherd wedding - though neither one of them had realised it until now.

Serena was so desperate to break the silence, because she knew the thoughts that were swirling round in Nate's pretty little head, so she asked the first thing that came to mind. "Have you heard from the Captain lately?"

Nate was still furious with his father over the embezzlement charges and substance abuse that had turned his family's world upside down over nine months ago. He'd then fled to the Dominican Republic, leaving his wife and son to be repeatedly questioned and scrutinised by the FBI. And now their house was being repossessed and Grandpa Van der Bilt was no longer talking to - or bankrolling - Nate and his mom. All in all, it had been a pretty terrible year to be an Archibald. But Nate also knew how much Serena would give to have her father in her life, whether in New York City or Santo Domingo, so he said, "Not lately. It's difficult with all the police investigations. They're tracking our phone calls."

"I'm sorry, Nate. It must be really hard."

"We're getting by. Y'know, life goes on." He was trying to put on a brave face, but Serena could see right through it. She started to regret asking the question in the first place because now she felt the indomitable urge to comfort him which, given the palpable change in the nature of their relationship that had occurred that afternoon, made her feel incredibly ill at ease.

Nate could see the dichotomy in her eyes - should she reach out for his hand or not? He didn't like to see her so uptight. Even though Blair made uptight look incredibly natural, on Serena it looked downright painful.

Making a quick decision to take matters into his own hands, Nate hopped up onto his feet and held out his large, manly-looking hand to pull Serena up. It was a practical (yet friendly) gesture, rather than an emotional one. "Come on," he said.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a sort of intrigued excitement.

"To the water. I'll race you." Nate winked at her.

"Game on, Archibald," she said grabbing his hand and jumping up from her spot in the sand.

The two beautiful, blond-haired free spirits sprinted towards to ocean, occasionally pushing one another in an attempt to take the advantage. Nate started shedding his clothes half way down the beach, whilst Serena careered into the water fully clothed.

* * *

Chuck was sitting with his legs sprawled out in front of him on the queen-sized bed of one of CeCe's many guest bedrooms. He had his laptop balancing on his lap and was studying a spreadsheet intently. It was the cash flow for Victrola. Whilst he was only a small shareholder in the burlesque club, he had plans to buy more and increase his influence over operations; so it was wise for him to be in the know. _Ain't no rest for the wicked_... and Chuck Bass liked to think of himself as the devil incarnate.

Considering that they were in the midst of a national recession, the figures for the previous month didn't look too bad. Surprisingly, a speakeasy was probably one of the most solid investments for Bass Industries at this time. They thrived during the late prohibition era precisely because they allowed people to _escape _the mundane tribulations of the Great Depression. This was the marketing strategy Chuck was hoping to emulate.

There were only three things Chuck had any major commitment to - sex, booze and business - and Victrola allowed him to reap the rewards of the trifecta, all whilst earning Bart's respect (not something he doled out very often). Chuck realised he ought to forward the cash flows and his most up-to-date business plans on to his father, so he selected the internet explorer icon on his toolbar. He was in the process of typing a long-winded email to Bart (hoping he was enjoying his extended honeymoon, and that Lily was well; asking when he would be home; etcetera etcetera; more inane chit-chat Bart would ignore) when the Gossip Girl pop-up appeared at the top of the webpage. He tried to ignore it, but it was flashing in that garish fuchsia, indicating a new blast had just been sent out.

Unable to tolerate the obtrusive glare, he clicked on it and a new tab immediately opened. The blast read:

_This just in: Blair Waldorf hot-to-trot with a new beau... and it looks like even Daddy approves._

Underneath was a photo of Blair sucking-face with some fancy boy, in what appeared to be Harold's vineyard (Chuck recognised it from the photographs Blair had shown him).

A plethora of emotions surged through Chuck simultaneously: anger, revulsion, jealousy, frustration, self-hatred, defeat... and the most poignant feeling of loss. Because he had lost _her. _He'd convinced himself that he wouldn't be able to handle the sense of rejection when she inevitably left him for Nate, or some other slick bastard, again. So he decided to do the dumping, thereby making him invincible to anything Blair could do to hurt him. But he wasn't invincible; he was weak. He had been too weak to face up to his true feelings - to his future - and now he was too weak to look at that hideous photo any longer. _Waldorf one, Bass nil._

He slammed the laptop shut, tossed it to the side and headed downstairs... straight towards CeCe's fully-stocked mini-bar.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. I actually think this chapter turned out better than the last one. I'm really sad that there isn't more Jenny and Eric (because they are awesome, but the chapter was just getting a little long) but we'll definitely be seeing them again soon. Please keep on reviewing. I really appreciate the feedback.**

**N/B: The chapter title is taken from a song by the Mystery Jets.**

**The line "Signs are for the religious, the superstitious, and the lower class," is a real Blair quote from episode 3x22**

**The line "Look, I care about three things, Nathaniel. Money, the pleasures money brings me, and you," is spoken by Chuck in episode 1x08**


	3. Wicked Game

Chapter Three

Wicked Game

Dan Humphrey was making his way to Noah Shapiro's office on the Upper West Side via the subway. He was sitting in between a large, sullen-looking woman, whose iPod was blasting so loud that half of the carriage could hear it, and a skinny, middle-aged man who smelt like cheap beer and stale pipe tobacco. The stagnant air was almost suffocating. He couldn't wait to get out into the fresh (or comparatively fresh) air.

Dan was drumming his hand against his knee in nervous anticipation of his meeting with Jeremiah Harris. It was a habit he'd had since childhood. But the claustrophobic subway train was making him feel more uncomfortable than usual, so he was doing it with extra celerity.

"Do you mind?" he heard someone close to him ask rhetorically, scornfully.

It was the big lady next to him. She was looking down at Dan's hand.

_How did she even hear? _He wondered.

He didn't have the courage to respond with his usual mordant attitude. She was far too large and scary. Instead he muttered "sorry," made a conscious effort to stop beating his hand, and averted his eyes in the direction of someone less menacing. There was a slim, mousy-haired young girl with a pretty, moon-shaped face, wearing a much more tranquil expression, sitting roughly ten feet diagonally from him. She wasn't doing anything; she just had her hands clasped in her lap as she gazed straight ahead.

Dan stared at her for a while. He wondered where she was going and what she was doing there. She was ultimately just another stranger, sat amongst a congregation of strangers in the train carriage; but he found her oddly interesting for some reason he couldn't pinpoint.

Soon the train started grinding to a halt and an unintelligible, crackling voice came over the intercom to announce the stop. Dan couldn't make out the words but he knew it was his station. W 86th, West End Avenue. He pulled himself up from his seat, wobbling slightly as the train finally shuddered to a complete standstill. He was just approaching the doors when the mousy-haired girl jumped to her feet in front of him. He was moving at quite a pace (he wanted to get off before the doors automatically slid shut) and, though he fought against momentum to stop himself, he walked straight into her. The pile of loose papers Dan was carrying flew everywhere.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking where I was going." She continued to apologise profusely in a small, child-like voice as she scrambled to the train floor to sweep up the papers.

"It's okay," Dan reassured her with the utmost sincerity as he joined her on the floor. "I can get off at the next stop."

The girl looked up at him with bright, grateful eyes. Clearly she hadn't experienced many polite strangers on the subway lately, either. Then she returned to her task of peeling paper off the sticky floor.

Between the two of them, they managed to collect all of the papers just as the train came to a stop at W 87th. Dan and the girl rose to their feet. He smiled at her and gestured towards the doors with an open palm, letting her get out of the carriage before him.

"Where you headed?" the girl asked as he joined her on the platform.

"525 West End Avenue." He wouldn't usually tell a complete stranger where he was going but she seemed harmless, and this address wasn't going to lead her to his home or anything.

Her eyebrows knitted into a single confused line across her lower forehead.

"Me too," she said. "Well, that explains the papers."

She flashed a humorous smile at him. Dan couldn't resist smiling back.

Together, they meandered through the crowds of people towards the escalator that would take them up onto the street.

"I'm Cindy," she introduced herself before he had the chance to say anything in return.

"Dan. It's nice to meet you, Cindy."

A second's silence ensued before Dan's intrigue got the better of him. "So, are you a writer?" he asked.

"Oh no, I'm just Noah's assistant."

Dan tried to hide the fact that he was a little disappointed. For a brief moment, he thought that maybe he had met his match in the form of a modestly attractive budding young writer with an affable personality.

_How ridiculous, _he chided himself internally. There was no such thing as kismet, it was mere coincidence that they were going to the same place.

"Is that a first draft of a chapter? Or a novel proposal?" she asked, nodding towards the small pile of paper that was now firmly secured in both of Dan's large hands.

They had just made it out on to 87th Street by this point. It was a hot day, but there was a cool breeze blowing through the wind tunnel formed by the tall, imposing buildings.

"Erm, neither actually. It's a short story. I had to write it for my internship with Jeremiah Harris."

"Ahh, Jeremiah. He's a character, isn't he?" Cindy shot Dan a knowing look. She was clearly about as fond of Jeremiah Harris as he was.

They both laughed.

"What's it about?"

Dan couldn't decide whether she was asking out of politeness or genuine curiosity. Either way, he felt slightly uncomfortable discussing the topic of the story he'd decided to bring with him. Cindy seemed nice though, so he decided there was no harm in giving her a brief outline.

"It's about a teenage boy who finally gets a shot with the girl of his dreams, who he's been admiring from afar for years." It was vague, but honest.

"What happens in the end?" She was clearly flirting with him, twiddling a strand of hair between her thumb and forefinger, smiling coyly. She was probably hoping that he would rejoinder with some daft pick-up line, like _care to find out? _

But Dan was clueless to her interest and he wasn't the pick-up line kind of guy. So he answered truthfully, "he made a complete fool of himself."

Cindy burst into raucous laughter and Dan couldn't help but join in.

They soon reached the sidewalk outside Noah Shapiro's office. In total, it had taken less than five minutes for them to walk from the subway but, in that short time, Cindy had already decided that she liked Dan. He liked her too, but not as much.

She pulled a black ballpoint pen out of her handbag and, not having a free hand, removed the lid with her teeth. Grabbing his hand palm-up, she proceeded to write a jumble of numbers across it. "This is my phone number. Call me if you ever have writer's block." (_the irony, _he thought).

She replaced the pen lid and put it back in her bag, walking towards the large, glass revolving doors of the lobby.

She briefly turned her head to look back at him. "It was nice meeting you, Dan." The corners of her mouth turned up into a sweet, closed-mouth smile.

"Same to you, Cindy."

Just then, Jeremiah walked round the corner of 85th Street, the opposite direction from which Dan and Cindy had just walked. He had obviously caught the last part of their conversation, and had probably even seen Cindy writing her number on his intern's hand.

_Oh fantastic,_ Dan thought. For some unknown reason, Jeremiah had already presumed Dan to be some remorseless playboy. It was probably because he got along so well with all the women who worked in Jeremiah's office; but, Dan had always been closer with girls than boys, even as a young child. His father always told him that it was because girls could relate to his more sensitive, poetic side. Dan just thought it was because he didn't fit in with the jocks or the Chuck Basses of the world. Most of the boys at St. Jude's weren't loquacious enough to make real conversation, and they preferred to just punch or swirly him.

One of Dan's reasons for choosing the story about his and Serena's first sort-of date was to show his supervisor that he was not Brooklyn's answer to Giovanni Jacopo. It was probably a good thing Dan hadn't finished the one about Chuck because Jeremiah would most likely have mistaken it for a memoir.

"Mr Humphrey, I see you've acquainted yourself with Miss Costello," was Jeremiah's mordant greeting. Actually, it was more of an observation.

"Shall we go up to my office?"

Dan followed him into the lobby and over to the elevators. Jeremiah Harris's office was on the twelfth floor and the journey up felt like the longest minute of his life. He was sure that Harris's ego was silently sucking out all of the air from the too-small space. The nervous drumming of his hand had started again, and now his foot was dancing synchronously.

They eventually stepped out and speedily headed to the end of the corridor into Jeremiah's office. Dan attempted to make himself comfortable in a chair on the opposite side of the desk to the older writer. It wasn't really working. He felt ill at ease in his surroundings, knowing that Jeremiah had little respect for him and certainly didn't like him.

He was now dreading the onslaught of criticism that was sure to ensue after handing over his story.

"So where is it then? Hand it over," Jeremiah demanded.

Dan held out the manuscript in clammy, trembling hands and Jeremiah snatched it eagerly. The older man seemed to be basking in the younger one's tension. It probably amused him.

Dan had to squeeze his hands together to stop himself from starting up the nervous drumming again as Jeremiah glanced over the manuscript.

Occasionally Harris altered his expression, nodded, or made a short 'mm' sound. Dan couldn't decide whether he was mm-ing in approval, amusement, or derision. _Probably derision, _he thought.

_Flawlessly beautiful... gold sequinned dress... staring down from the balcony... smile of a thousand diamonds... hair flickering in the fresh wind... __breathless... sharp girlish laughter... sensitive, torturous soul... kind, twinkling eyes... dream girl... cold September night... fingers intertwined... comfortable silence... forehead pressed against his shoulder._

These were just some of the words and phrases Jeremiah noticed as he skim-read the manuscript for a basic plot. When he lifted his head again to meet Dan's panicked eyes, his expression was unreadable.

_Oh my god, oh my god, _Dan was repeating anxiously inside his head. The anticipation was making his stomach roil. It felt like he was about to disgorge his lunch.

"I like it," Jeremiah said blankly.

_What? _Dan's eyes instantly widened in disbelief. The expression probably looked exaggerated, like that of a cartoon character. He was beyond surprised at this response, Jeremiah never _liked_ anything. Except himself - he clearly had a very high opinion of himself.

"I mean it has potential," he elaborated. "It's very subtle and generally well written. I like some of the description."

"Thank you," Dan managed to mumble appreciatively after finally pulling his facial expression together.

"There's still a lot of work to be done though. I'll look at it in more detail tonight and give you notes tomorrow. Until then, you can go work on a follow up story, if you'd like?"

It was a command thinly veiled as a question. Dan arose from his seat and pushed it back under the desk. Just as he was opening the door, Jeremiah called him back with a look of intrigue pasted all over his face.

"What inspired you to write this story?"

Dan said nothing; but the silently piercing look he shot back spoke volumes.

* * *

Blair gracefully bounded back to the table on the veranda, rejoining the small party. The sun had set a couple of hours ago, but it was still warm outside, assisted by a large patio heater, and the group hadn't yet retired indoors. Harold was in the process of giving Roman and James an emphatic account of his and Blair's trip to the theatre, describing everything in the most minute detail. The other two men were laughing along, their humours amplified by the large quantities of wine they'd consumed. They barely even noticed Blair's reappearance, but she didn't mind. She was just happy to be with her father, the man she adored most in the world (except for one, but she didn't acknowledge this fact herself).

Blair was idly caressing the stem of her empty wine glass when James looked over at her. She didn't meet his gaze for a few seconds because she was looking down at the table, not really focussing on her surroundings. In fact, it seemed as if she were miles away, just as it had when James had first met her earlier that day.

Subconsciously realising that her solitude was being infiltrated by a pair of peering eyes, she snapped to attention and flashed her warmest possible smile at James. He held out a bottle of Chteau Margaux, his lips curving into a speechless question mark. She nudged her glass towards him in response. He filled it up to the part of the glass with the largest diameter (Blair always noticed people's politesse) and placed it in front of her.

He saw her dainty hand laying on the edge of the table and placed his significantly larger one gently over it. The intimacy he had clearly hoped to ignite fell flat; Blair had barely even realised he was touching her and, when she finally noticed his hand atop her own, she pulled it from underneath. Just to ensure he wasn't too wounded by her aloofness, she batted her eyelids coquettishly and picked up her wine glass with her recently-freed hand, pressing her lips to its rim to take a sip. The powerful taste of blackberry and cassis invaded her palate, its piquancy pleasantly burning her throat as she swallowed the smooth vintage. She took another draught of the almost black liquid, much larger this time. Then two more. Blair could feel the swells of intoxication rolling over her, causing a delightful tingling sensation just below the surface of her skin.

She mustered the courage to look back at James, hoping that her tipsiness would awaken some sort of desire for him. _Desire _was perhaps too much to hope for, but through her now slightly glazed-over eyes he was more appealing than he had been five minutes ago, so she set down her glass and placed her hand on his. It felt better with her hand on top, like she was taking charge of the situation. She liked to feel in control.

Quite suddenly, Blair became aware of her father's voice penetrating her bleary thoughts.

"Blair-bear, why don't you show James around the vineyard?" Turning to James, he added, "it's quite spectacular."

"Okay Daddy, are you going to join us?"

"No darling, you two should go enjoy yourselves. We're going to hit the hay. We oldies need our sleep."

Harold and Roman laughed joyously, harmonising into a melodic sing-song. Blair's heart warmed at the beautiful sound. She had never seen her father so happy as he was now. He didn't seem old in any way; he was vibrant and full of life.

"Just remember to take your wrap with you. I don't want you to catch a cold," he added as he leaned in to kiss her lightly on the forehead.

"I won't. Goodnight. Love you, Daddy," she replied as his lips puckered against her hair line, her eyes fluttering shut and a small smile curling in the corners of her lips.

"I love you too, Blair-bear." He smiled at her and then turned to face James. "It was nice to meet you James. I hope I'll be seeing you again." Harold cast a cheeky glance at his daughter, and she tittered under her breath in response.

"It was lovely to meet you too, Sir. Thank you for your hospitality," James returned, holding out his hand to shake Harold's.

Blair and James repeated a similar ritual with Roman, before the two older men retired to the château.

She wrapped her shoulders in the aqua-coloured, silk-wool blend shawl that coordinated perfectly with the floral blue and white A-line dress she was wearing that evening. Then, looping her arm through his, she led James towards the vineyard.

By this point, the alcohol she had consumed was making her skin glow in the twinkling starlight, and it hadn't escaped the young man's notice. Her whole appearance, in fact, was flawless. Wild tendrils of curly chocolate hair framed her moon-shaped face, the rest of it sat on the top of her head in a high chignon. Her large, deep brown eyes sparkled in the haze of drunkenness. A coral blush settled on her porcelain cheeks as the heat flooded her body. Full pink lips curved expressively into pouts and smiles as her euphoria ebbed and flowed.

"You look beautiful tonight, Blair," James confessed in open admiration.

"Thank you," was her only answer. She was debating whether or not to compliment him in kind, but decided against it. It wouldn't have been a lie to say he looked very handsome, but she didn't feel able to summon the right level of conviction. Because, whilst they walked arm-in-arm through the vineyard, talking to one another easily, she was really craving another's company.

Blair was utterly ashamed that she had spent so much of her time thinking about Chuck. She realised that he probably hadn't given her a second thought all summer, but that didn't change anything for her. _Pull yourself together, _she scolded herself internally.

After an hour or so of wandering the quiet vineyard it started getting cool and Blair's buzz started to fade, so she and James headed back towards the château. In the distance, she could see a dark figure moving towards them. She wondered if it was a figment of her imagination - she was quite tired and had drank a lot of wine at dinner, after all.

As the person got closer, she recognised it to be Grégoire, her father's butler and housekeeper. _Thank god, I'm not insane._

"Mademoiselle Blair, your father has asked that you come inside now. It's getting late."

Grégoire was a good-natured, fifty-something-year-old Frenchman, who had a deep fondness for Blair. She liked him very much, but he was no Dorota.

"Of course Grégoire, I'm on my way."

The man nodded his head and turned to walk away, but Blair stopped him. Holding out her cell phone, she asked "would you mind taking a couple of photos of us?"

Puzzlement spread across James's face as he glanced down at Blair. "So I have a memento of our first _date._" She attempted to laden the last word with as much gratification as possible, but she could hear the insincerity in her voice. Even her oh-so-innocent smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Apparently he didn't notice though, as indicated by him grinning back at her like a love sick lapdog.

Grégoire happily obliged. For the first photograph, Blair moved herself half in front of James, winding both of her arms tightly around his waist and directing a glorious toothy smile at the camera. He slung one of his arms round her shoulders and put on a smile that complimented hers perfectly. The camera flashed brightly.

Blair braced herself for the second photo. She wasn't sure how she was going to accomplish her objective without looking completely unnatural. Moving her hands up and placing them firmly on his shoulders, she pulled James down so that his face was closer to her own. He moved his arms to accommodate her new position, wrapping them loosely around her narrow waist. _All set, _she thought, staring intently at Grégoire (or, more precisely, at his thumb which was now moving arthritically towards the button on her cell phone). Just as he pressed down on the button, Blair turned her head towards James and planted a firm kiss on his lips. It took him by surprise but, by the time the camera shutter closed again, the kiss had acquired a somewhat authentic feel.

Too foolish to realise it was just a show for Blair's camera, James attempted to turn the chaste kiss into a much more passionate one. Grégoire looked off in another direction, feeling uncomfortable, whilst Blair gently pulled away to break the contact. She instantly pasted a mild, tight-lipped smile onto her face as a silent approval, but it was a gesture made out of politeness (and unspoken gratitude for the ammunition he'd unknowingly provided her with) rather than candour.

Later that night, Blair was in her bedroom preparing herself for a well-earned repose. She removed her bobby pins and shook out her shiny mahogany curls, preening herself in front of her mirror. Once she had changed into her silken night gown, she slipped under her heavy duck down comforter. Remembering that she had one final task to perform before her day was done, she rolled over and grabbed her phone from the night stand. She navigated her way through the menu until she came to the 'compose new message' option. She browsed her contacts, eventually finding the one she was looking for: Gossip Girl. "Post URGENTLY. Thanks. -B" she typed into the subject box. Then Blair selected 'attachments', scrolling to the bottom of her camera roll and adding the final picture. It was the one of her and James kissing, arms clasped around one another, their bodies pressed flush together. The kiss somehow looked more ardent than it actually was, which pleased her greatly.

Blair crowed gleefully as she pressed the 'send' button and then flopped back into her pillows, ready for sleep to pull her under.

* * *

In the late evening, Nate and Serena burst through the front door of CeCe Rhodes's glamorous Hamptons house, dripping salty seawater and laughing raucously as they went. The piercing sound wasn't agreeable with the scotch headache that had already descended upon Chuck after several hours of drinking away his woes, but he said nothing as he drained another tumbler of the amber liquor.

Eric, on the other hand, was glad to see his sister and her companion, especially since Serena looked so indomitably happy in a way she hadn't in almost three months. Their presence would provide him with much-needed comic relief from his stepbrother's sullen countenance and the gloomy atmosphere that was permeating into the living room.

"Hey, you guys," Eric greeted them brightly.

"Hey Eric," the two soggy blonds chimed in chorus, over barely suppressed laughter. They looked each other directly in the eyes, and then burst out into another uncontrollable bout of hysterics.

"You'll never guess what happened to Nate? Oh, it's so funny." Her excitement was palpable as she prepared to tell her anecdote.

"So, we were on the beach and decided we wanted to go in the sea, right? We raced each other there, and 'cause I really wanted to win I just left my clothes on. But Nate took his off and left them on the beach, so he was just wearing his boxers. A dog came along -"

"You aren't allowed to take dogs onto Cooper's beach, are you?" Eric interrupted her.

"Well, obviously someone broke the rules, 'cause that's what happened. Anyway, the dog came along and started sniffing Nate's clothes. Then it ran off with his shorts. We could see it happening but we were right out in the deep sea, so there wasn't a lot we could do. We started to head back to shore to see if we could catch up with the dog but, when we turned around, a really big wave came up behind us -"

"Yeah man, it was massive. I've never seen a wave so big in my life," Nate broke in to corroborate her story. Eric suspected they were exaggerating, but he allowed Serena to finish anyway.

"- and we didn't even see it coming, it took us completely by surprise. But it was so strong that it pulled Nate's boxers right off... never to be seen again." Serena was laughing so hard by this point that tears were visibly streaming down her reddened face.

Eric raised a quizzical eyebrow at Nate.

"Seriously, I'm completely commando under this towel," Nate added with a little chuckle.

Whilst some people would have found this turn of events beyond mortifying, Nate was as good-humoured as ever. Eric guffawed with abandon, as he pondered the odds of someone losing both their shorts and their boxers in one afternoon alone.

"Now there's a thought that doesn't _bear_ thinking about," a husky voice cut in. Chuck's cool, collected exterior rarely faltered, but Eric could tell that his mood had lightened a little by the smirk that now adorned his face. "Excuse the pun," he added.

Serena and Eric chortled at their stepbrother; meanwhile Nate just looked confused as he tried to figure out the pun. You could practically see the cogs turning in his pretty little head, which amused the van der Bass siblings no end. Ergo, a self-perpetuating cycle of laughter was ignited. It continued until Serena, Nate, and Eric had stomach cramps, and Chuck had almost succumbed to an audible chuckle.

After some time, CeCe breezed through the lounge, gin in hand, to tell her grandchildren that supper would be served soon.

"Nathaniel, would you like me to ask housekeeping to lay an extra place?" CeCe was uncharacteristically supportive of her granddaughter's friendship with the young Archibald, particularly if it kept her away from _Dan_ Humphrey.

"That's very kind of you Ms Rhodes, but unfortunately I can't tonight. I have to go home and retrieve some pants."

Nate slowly dropped his head to look at the white towel hanging precariously from his hips. CeCe's eyes followed the movement down to the make-shift skirt, before staring at him with a wide-eyed look of bafflement. They all started laughing again; even CeCe indulged in a moment of silent mirth before disappearing out onto the patio.

Once Nate had left and Serena had made herself presentable, the four sat down for supper in the garden. Eric could sense that the light-hearted atmosphere had dissipated. Chuck was once again swilling a glass of scotch in his right hand, eyes averted from the people sat around him. Serena's ever-mercurial mood was threatening to double back into despondency or esoteric anger. Eric never had been able to distinguish between his sister's more volatile conditions because they often melded together into a single overpowering negative ambience. He wondered whether this change had anything to do with Nate's absence.

CeCe also appeared to have noticed the tension rolling off Serena in waves, because she swiftly knocked back another glass of forty proof Botanica to steel herself.

"Are you okay, darling?" she ventured.

_Bad move_, Eric thought, bracing himself for Serena's icy response.

"I'm fine," she answered, but her voice sounded strained. "I just think _Chuck_ -" she emphasised his name to get his attention "- should say whatever it is he wants to say, rather than weep into his glass of scotch all night."

Chuck looked towards Serena, chagrin flaring in his eyes.

"You're putting me on edge." She directed her final comment back at him.

Eric was sure that Serena's mood wasn't just a response to Chuck, but it wasn't worth pressing her on the issue. Besides, their stepbrother did have a peculiar way of controlling an atmosphere. It was actually difficult to tell whether it was his or Serena's aura that was suffocating everyone within a ten foot radius.

"I don't _weep,_" Chuck bit back, avoiding the main point of Serena's little outburst.

"I know it's because of Blair," she taunted. "I've seen you checking your phone every ten minutes, wondering whether you should call her."

Chuck's fury was palpable, almost visible. But he didn't respond.

CeCe continued to swig her gin until the bottle was almost empty and the pressure became too much. She left the table before the main course had even been served. Eric contemplated joining her, but he figured that Serena and Chuck would need a referee for their imminent argument.

"Look, I know you don't like talking about it, but you could solve all this if you just called her." Serena's tone was so unexpectedly soft that Eric's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Whilst I appreciate your concern, I think I'll take my advice from someone who isn't in a fake relationship." His voice was soft and even, but the statement was laced with a tacit dose of ridicule.

_Ouch. _Serena wasn't going to react well to that little gibe. Her nostrils were flaring, face turning a deep shade of scarlet, eyes narrowing into daggers. The whole look was downright terrifying.

"You should calm down, sis. Rage is unbecoming of you." Chuck continued digging his own grave.

He was quite skilled at deflecting his self-loathing onto other people. A less perceptive person - Nate, for instance - probably wouldn't even notice him doing it, but Eric knew that Serena wasn't really the target of Chuck's anger.

"And jealousy doesn't look good on you," she bit back. "Green really isn't your colour."

Chuck snorted, but there was no humour in his eyes and it seemed forced. "And what would_ I_ have to be jealous of?"

"Well, Blair had a hot date tonight." Serena just couldn't resist poking the beehive. "Though I'm sure you've already seen the photos."

"Good for her. Maybe she could give you some tips," Chuck coolly responded with faux nonchalance.

Despite his admiration of Serena and Chuck's abilities to hold their own (he couldn't even tell who had the upper hand), Eric soon became frustrated with their petty bickering. He interjected with an unconscious _hmmph! _Both his siblings instantly snapped their stern focus to him. Serena pursed her lips and narrowed her azure orbs into an accusatory squint. She was clearly questioning her little brother's loyalty. Chuck's hazel eyes were burning so brightly, Eric thought he might end up with cataracts if he looked into them for any length of time. _Oh god, _he thought. _What have I done? _He should have known from prior experience that there are two golden rules for refereeing a Serena-Chuck stand-off. One: always maintain an impartial outlook. Two: _never_, under_ any _circumstances, make eye-contact with either opponent.

Eric started to shuffle anxiously in his seat, dropping his face to avoid Serena and Chuck's thorny glares. It was no good; he could feel the intensity of their eyes, as if they were shooting lasers right at him.

Momentarily Eric's cell phone started vibrating in his lap. _Phew._ Gratitude washed over him... until he looked down at the caller I.D. He stared between the flashing screen and his siblings' faces, before making a decision.

"Excuse me," he stuttered nervously, "I need to take this." He swiftly moved away from the table, leaving Serena and Chuck to continue their futile argument.

* * *

Today it was the younger Humphrey's turn to storm through the loft like a category five hurricane. Doors slammed, papers blew about, and a few of Rufus's Freddy Boom Boom Washington mugs smashed on the floor. Dan turned his eyes from his laptop screen, fascinated by the natural hazard. But, when their eyes met, she cast him a look that said _if you even dare mock me, heads will roll _and stomped into her bedroom. Dan gaped at the door as it slammed, before snapping his mouth shut. Then he heard a muffled groan coming from Jenny's room. He thought better of barging in there and left her to sulk on her own.

Jenny laid on the little bed in the centre of the room, face-down, pressed into the pillow. Anger was radiating from her whole body, but she wasn't going to shed any tears over that _bitch_, Laurel. Not only had Laurel been completely unappreciative of Jenny's meticulous organisation of the box of buttons by colour, shape, and size, she'd also refused to look at any of her designs. And that was all in the first ten minutes of the day. So Jenny had set to work on assembling a prototype dress from Eleanor's new collection. It was a useful task for practising machine work and, even though the dress wasn't going to be used for any pitches, Jenny felt honoured to have the sketches for an unreleased EWD original laid out in front of her.

That all changed when Laurel came up behind her, snootily criticised her seam work and swanned off like the head bitch in charge. The criticism usually wouldn't have affected Jenny too much, but there had been nothing wrong with her seams and she was desperate to impress Laurel. Whichever intern produced the best mock-up of an original dress would be allowed to sit in on the Barneys pitch next week. It would be her one opportunity to be seen by some of the most eminent fashion buyers. She could even go into the meeting wearing one of her own dresses with the hope of generating some much-needed buzz for J Humphrey Designs.

To put the cherry on an already crappy day, Jenny now had to spend the next couple of hours ordering in new materials so that the_ real work_ (as Laurel had so disrespectfully commented) could be done. She kept trying to remind herself of her father's words of encouragement. _You can achieve anything you set your mind to. Sometimes you have to start at the bottom and work your way up. Good things come to those who wait. Etcetera etcetera. More stupid clichés._ Of course, these little jewels of wisdom did hold fragments of truth, but Jenny was fed up of starting at the bottom. She wondered why she couldn't be more like Serena. Everything came so easily to Serena van der Woodsen. No waiting. No bottom-dwelling. No conscious decision-making._  
_

Just then, Jenny heard the familiar ring of her cell phone. She would bet her bottom dollar on it being Laurel with another task to add to her never-ending to-do list.

Pulling it out of her handbag, Jenny observed the 'one new message' alert. It wasn't from Laurel, but an equally bitchy, condescending, obsessive sociopath, hell-bent on making everybody's lives more miserable. Gossip Girl.

Jenny sighed antithetical notes of relief and trepidation as she opened the message.

_Spotted: S and N getting steamy on Cooper's beach. Don't forget your sun cream Upper East Siders 'cause I'm about to turn up the heat._

Below was a string of photos of the two vibrant blonds running semi-nude down the beach; tackling one another into the sand; frolicking in the ocean. But the one that struck a chord with Jenny was the very last photo. Nate pushed down into the sand, gazing up at the beautiful young woman straddling him. His hands splayed out over her silky, golden-brown calves, their abdomens pressed firmly against one another. Deliciously plump coral lips pulled into a shy smile. Bright blue eyes twinkling in that typical Serena van der Woodsen way. Her long, effortlessly wavy locks curtained one side of her face; a waterfall of glistening gold shielding them both from the rest of the world.

Yes,_ everything _came easy to Serena, part Constance royalty, part rebellious maverick. Simultaneously, she was the darling of UES-society and a wayward party-girl with a dark past. She embodied every contradiction in the book, and everyone loved her for it. The boys at St. Jude's fell at her feet and worshipped her. By sophomore year, she'd already dated - or, at the very least, hooked-up with - half of the lacrosse team. The Constance Billard girls were torn between lucid admiration and maniacal jealousy of the charmed life she led.

At this very moment, Jenny was finding it difficult not to let resentment get the best of her. Even though Serena had always been unabatedly kind to her, she found it unfair that the older girl could ensnare any number of amazing guys, whilst she was destined to be a boring Brooklyn virgin for all eternity. The only three brushes she'd had with the opposite sex to date consisted of almost being ravished against her will by Chuck Bass, a short-lived relationship with a gay dog walker and a case of mistaken identity on Nate's behalf. _My life sucks. _The only consolation was that Nate had actually mistaken_ her_ for _Serena van der Woodsen _and proceeded to confess his undying love to her.

Putting aside her own envy for a second, Jenny realised that there might be a bigger problem. Dan. How was he going to react to the news that his perfect ex-girlfriend was moving on with her life? With Nate Archibald, no less. Serena and Nate were a match made in Heaven; ten years in the making from what Jenny had heard. How was a Humphrey supposed to compete_ with that_?

If Dan left it much longer to talk to her, there'd be all hell to pay. Serena would get over him for good and probably start a serious relationship with Nate, then get married, move out to the Hamptons, and have a brood of perfect-looking, blond, trust-fund babies. The fairytale swirling in Jenny's head was downright gag-inducing. She had to find a way to put an end to it for the sake of her big brother's happiness. Someday he and Serena might even thank her for meddling in their business.

Besides, Dan's happiness was the perfect pretence for calling someone she'd been desperately yearning to talk to for the last three months. Jenny picked up her cell phone again and started furiously scrolling through her contacts until she found the one she wanted.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring._

Five double-rings. She was becoming impatient and tears were starting to brim in her eyes. She wondered whether she'd been wrong to call this number, whether it would even be possible to repair her once-cherished friendship with the younger van der Woodsen. Maybe he didn't care anymore. She wouldn't blame him.

Just as she was about to lose hope and hang up, she heard the line connect.

"If it's apology time, you're about three months too late," he said in a clipped tone.

She was just grateful that he'd answered. Obviously there was still a part of him that cared for her, else he would have ignored her completely.

When she didn't reply straight away, Eric took the opportunity to continue. "And let me guess, you want something."

There wasn't the slightest hint of a question in it. He knew her well enough to realise that she was too stubborn to approach him without some external force necessitating it. It made her smile, just a little.

"Well, yeah, I guess I do..." Her voice started to trail off, uncertain of how to broach the topic. "Mostly I just want to say I'm sorry. I know I should have said it ages ago, but I'm saying it now... And I also need you to help me with something."

The words came out rushed and ineloquent, but he could tell that they were heartfelt. He attempted to cut her off, to tell her she was on probation, but she wouldn't let him get a word in edgewise.

"Before you protest, it isn't for me. It's for Serena."

"I'm listening," his voice rang with intrigue.

"Dan's miserable. He's not sleeping properly, or eating. He's blocked and, quite honestly, he's acting like a complete and utter ass."

"I'm not sure I follow. What does this have to do with Serena?"

"Everything!" Jenny almost yelled at him, as if it were glaringly obvious. "Ever since they broke up, he's been like this whole other person. I don't know if he can be happy without her."

Eric exhaled a soft, subdued sigh. "I know what you mean," he finally conceded. "Serena has turned from sunshine Barbie to Blair Waldorf over the last couple of months."

Jenny couldn't figure out which of the two girls Eric was insulting most.

"Hey, that's mean," she tittered, thoroughly amused.

Eric was laughing along with her. It felt nice to have his friend back.

"I just mean that she's taken over Blair's role of antagonising Chuck for no apparent reason. For his sake, I feel kind of obliged to help you out. What did you have in mind?"

"We just have to get them in the same place, at the same time, so they can remind themselves of all the reasons why they love each other."

"You make it sound so simple..." Eric said sceptically.

"I know, but I have a plan." Her voice was full of certainty. "You're in the Hamptons, right?"

Eric didn't respond to her question. Jenny could hear a low, muffled mumbling in the background but she couldn't make out who he was talking to or what was being said. She guessed that Eric had put his hand over the speaker. She drummed her thin fingers against her knee (apparently a habit that ran in the Humphrey family) as she impatiently waited for him to return to the matter at hand.

A few seconds later, he muttered uneasily, "sorry Jen, I have to go. Call you later."

He hung up before she even had the chance to say goodbye.

Jenny sat in the centre of her bed, legs crossed, phone still clutched in hand, dazed by what had just happened. The conversation had taken all of sixty seconds to volte-face from two friends plotting together to salvage their siblings' relationship, to one friend slamming the phone down without any explanation. _What the hell?_

* * *

Eric was standing sheepishly in front of his grandmother, trying to slide his phone into the back pocket of his slacks as discretely as possible. CeCe had a way of making everybody feel on edge in her presence, mainly because she was so difficult to please and they were all terrified of disappointing her. This went doubly for her own flesh and blood.

Her face was a blank canvas with no discernible emotion painted upon it. It was a look that she'd perfected over the years so that she always had the element of surprise when words finally came spilling out of her mouth. As a person who was usually adept at reading atmospheres, not knowing what she was thinking disconcerted Eric.

"Are you talking to your mother?" CeCe asked calmly.

At least she didn't seem disappointed.

"No, I'm not. Just a friend," he answered with a polite smile, in an attempt to conceal his uneasiness.

"Well, would you mind having a word with me for a moment? You can tell your_ friend_ you'll call them back later."

The word _friend_ was layered with inexplicable animosity and disapproval.

"Um, yeah, sure."

Eric pulled his phone out of its hiding placed and quickly blurted out an apology to Jenny before cutting her off.

"What is it Grandma?" He asked with all the composure he could assemble.

"I assume that 'Jen' is Jennifer _Humphrey,_" she commented, again with a scornful tone. She couldn't understand why the Humphrey children were so insistent on shortening their names. As if they weren't middle-class enough.

"Yes," he affirmed dubiously.

"I heard you talking about Serena. I think it would be best if the pair of you didn't interfere in her personal business."

CeCe's 'advice' was a barely concealed order, and Eric knew that she was leaving no room for debate. The intensity in her eyes, which connected directly with his own, was a silent attempt to inculcate it into his conscience.

"The best course of action would be for Serena to stay away from Daniel. That will allow her to move forward with her life."

Eric rarely lost his temper with anybody, but he could feel ire prickling beneath his skin. He didn't like the way his grandmother acted like she and her family were superior to the Humphreys.

"Best for who? Serena? Or you?" he unthinkingly sniped back at her.

As soon as he'd spoken, he realised that challenging his grandmother was a potentially-fatal error. His eyes widened in disbelief at his own stupidity and he clapped his hand over his mouth.

But she was amused by his reaction.

"I can assure you that my motivations are nothing if not pure," she chortled.

_Yeah, right. _Her motivations were questionable at best, and malevolent at worst.

"As for your _friend_, Jenny Humphrey, I'm sure that's a different story entirely. Social-climbing little girls always have a hidden agenda."

Eric had to bite down on his tongue to suppress a retaliation. Despite how upsetting he found his grandmother's cynicism - was it really so unfathomable that someone would want to be his friend without expecting anything in return? - he wisely decided that he'd be better off keeping his opinions to himself. Getting involved in a power-struggle with CeCe was a suicide mission. Quite frankly, she made Blair Waldorf look like Princess Peach.

He nodded his head and told her he understood, promised that he wouldn't meddle in Serena's love-life, until she eventually walked away. But his grandmother's protestations had only strengthened his resolve.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and started tapping away at the keys.

_I'll help you. For Serena and Dan. -E_

He smiled a little as he pressed the 'send' button; not because he'd just intentionally defied CeCe, but because he had his best friend back and soon his sister would be happy again.

* * *

Nate pressed a ten dollar bill into the taxi driver's hand, told him to keep the change, and stepped out of the car. After slamming the door and watching the car roll away from the curb, he was left alone in the almost silent midnight darkness of the Southampton neighbourhood. He looked along the row of houses in front of him, feeling slightly sentimental that this would be the last time he came here, and then started walking towards the big, white, wisteria-covered house at the end of the road.

When he got to her house, he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and quickly typed a brief message: _I'm outside. Come meet me._

He'd only been waiting a few minutes when he heard the front door _bang, _and she came rushing out onto the sidewalk.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper that was barely quiet enough to pass for one. She didn't sound vexed.

On the contrary, her eyes lit up at the sight of her illicit lover, as if his merely being there aroused her. She attempted to pull him into a hot kiss by clutching at his shirt.

Nate was resistant to her touch and jerked his face away from hers.

Oblivious to his brush-off, she said, "we don't have long. Maybe we should take this straight to the pool house," and grabbed him by the hand to tow him round the back of the house.

"Catherine." He took hold of both of her hands, pulling her round to face him. "I'm not here to fuck you in your pool house while your husband sleeps less that a hundred metres away."

She was taken aback by the aloofness of his tone.

"Then why are you here, Nate?" she asked, even though she could already see the direction that this conversation was headed in.

"We need to talk," he said timorously.

Catherine threw her head back in exasperated laughter.

"Well, that sounds ominous. What comes next? 'It's not you, it's me'?"

Her mocking made Nate feel pathetically juvenile, almost like he were being told off by his mother, and he wondered whether she had always thought of him as a stupid little boy who was just there for her amusement.

"I think we should end this," he blurted out, not wanting to prolong the humiliation.

"Oh, you do, do you?" She seemed to be taking a sadistic sort of pleasure from his discomfort. "Well, I have news for you, honey. This ends when _I_ say it does."

Nate couldn't figure out why she was so averse to putting a stop to their tryst when she acted like he was disposable to her anyway. She was fully capable of seducing any high school senior into keeping her company whilst her husband away. No doubt she could even find one with more sexual experience that Nate had. Hell, he would even pass along Chuck's phone number if she wanted.

"Why are you being like this? I'm going back to the city in less than two weeks and then I'll be back at school."

"You know Nate, I almost believe your reasoning," she said patronisingly, "but I just can't shake the feeling that this has to do with a certain Serena van der Woodsen."

She held up her phone to show him the pictures posted on Gossip Girl, fury flaming in her eyes and lips tightening into a hard scowl. Nate's throat twitched as he swallowed back his fear and braced himself for a confrontation.

"Does it really matter why?" he asked. Though, by the look on her face, he could tell that it mattered to her.

"I don't play second fiddle to goldilocks," she spat back with venom.

"You don't really have a choice. You can't force me to be your call-boy." Nate stood his ground, even though he found her temperamental rage terrifying.

"I think I do. I think you're going to do exactly what I tell you to." The look in her eyes was almost hypnotic, but Nate was resistant to its power.

"You know, I could just tell your husband and then it would be game over for you," he said in a voice that conveyed more confidence than he actually felt.

She laughed at him again.

"Really? You're blackmailing me? That's cute. Who do you think he'd believe? His_ loyal, devoted_ wife, or an infatuated school boy?"

The way she said it made Nate feel beyond stupid. He realised that Catherine was probably much more experienced in the art of deception than he'd realised. She'd certainly had him wrapped round her little finger for the last two months, and he was only just finding out how manipulative she could be now. She probably had her husband under the same spell as well.

"Besides, I have much more bargaining power than you do," she added with smug satisfaction.

Nate raised his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I just think it would be a shame if I accidentally let it slip to the FBI that I know the whereabouts of your long-absent, fraudulent father."

Her tone was flirtatious in the most threatening way, and she looked at him with artificial innocence under a thick fringe of lightly fluttering eyelashes. Nate's eyes glazed over at the realisation that she was entirely right. He was trapped into this twisted affair until she gave him an out.

"Now, let's see if we can come to some sort of agreement, shall we?"

She glowed with triumph.

* * *

**N/B: 'Wicked Game' is a song by Chris Isaak. James Vincent McMorrow's cover version is used at the end of episode 5x11.**

**Author's Note: Sorry that this chapter has ended up being really long, even though not a lot is going on (I'm trying to set it up for the next few chapters e.g. Eric/Jenny stuff, Dan/Cindy, Dan/Serena, etc). Next chapter will be much more fast-paced I hope. Reviews would be appreciated anyway!**


	4. Coming Home

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**A/N: I'm sorry I haven't been around in a while. This chapter is a little shorter because I want to get on to the next chapter quickly so that I can start exploring the glorious CHAIR a bit more. This chapter has a lot of Serena and Blair, and some sweet S/N stuff as well. Please read and review (I haven't spent a lot of time editing it but I hope there's not too many mistakes). Lots of love.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Coming Home

"And how is everybody? CeCe, Eric, Nate – "

"– Chuck?" Serena cut her off abruptly. She had known Blair Waldorf long enough to know that _everybody _actually meant one person in particular.

"_Noooo_," she answered innocently.

"He's insufferable, egotistical and very jealous." Serena ignored her best friend's protestations and supplied her with the relevant details so that they could move past the Chuck segment of their conversation.

"Oh, really? And why might that be?"

The blonde sighed emphatically at Blair's charade of obliviousness, but decided it would be easier to just play along for a minute.

"Mm hmm," she hummed sarcastically. "He was particularly affected by last night's Gossip Girl blast."

"A blast? What sort of blast?"

_Really? _Serena thought. _She's actually going to pretend she has no idea?_

"Give me a break, B. This has the Waldorf stamp all over it. There was a photo of you and your fancy pants beau in your father's private vineyard, for Christ's sake."

"Well, she does have sources everywhere," Blair mused.

This was ridiculous. Serena knew that Blair had sent in that tip. And Blair knew that Serena knew that she had sent in that tip. Yet, Blair had somehow convinced herself that she hadn't sent in the tip._  
_

"Why don't I just cut to the chase and tell you that he's miserable here without you? Whatever genius plan you have up your sleeve seems to be having the desired affect."

"Has he mentioned me?" Much as she tried to keep her tone nonchalant, she couldn't completely suppress the hope in her voice. Realising this, Blair screwed her face up and started violently beating a clenched fist against the mattress beneath her. _Ugh, could I sound more desperate? _She chastised herself.

Serena didn't know how to answer. Chuck hadn't really mentioned Blair at all since she left for Europe. He just seemed even more distant than normal. For the most part, he'd made a conscious effort to avoid everyone except from the Brazilian triplets. He was even being evasive with Nate.

For a while, Serena had just assumed that her stepbrother was a heartless pig who really didn't care much for Blair or her feelings. It wasn't until she saw him tip a whole box of luxury macaroons into the garbage disposal a few days ago that she had realised what was really going on. He was trying to avoid anything that reminded him of Blair's existence.

But she didn't think Blair would want to hear this information.

"It's not like we stay up at night braiding each other's hair and talking about our secret crushes, B."

"You are useless at sleuthing. I hope you aren't considering a career in the CIA," Blair responded indignantly.

Serena just laughed. Only Blair would compare her relationship drama to the work of the CIA.

"Well, why don't you come join me in the Hamptons and do your own sleuthing then?"

Blair mulled the question over for a moment. She knew Serena was only joking, but it did make sense for her to make her way back across the Atlantic. It was nearly the end of summer and she hadn't spent any of it with her best friend. Since the age of four, the two of them had spent their summers together sunning themselves at CeCe's estate. How could Blair break that tradition during their last summer before graduation?

"S, I gotta go. I'll speak to you soon, okay?"

"What? Why? We've barely been on the phone ten minutes," Serena protested.

"We can speak at length tomorrow."

"Do you want me to call you at the same time?"

Blair could hear the sadness in Serena's voice. It made her feel awful that her best friend had been just as miserable and lonely as she had been this summer.

"No need. I'm taking the next plane out to New York."

"What!?" Serena had gone from deflated to elated in a matter of seconds.

"Go! Go pack your things, B," she added quickly.

Both girls were giggling excitedly in anticipation of their impending reunion when they hung up their phones. Maybe there was a chance the summer could be salvaged after all.

* * *

After another long morning of trying - and failing - to write a story that would satisfy Harris's insatiable appetite for literature, Dan was on the verge of giving up. _How can I be a writer when I can't even write? _The question kept replaying in his mind. He just couldn't seem to figure out the answer. He'd never had trouble writing before but, now that all of his dreams were within his reach, everything had changed. This was his once in a lifetime opportunity to get some recognition and a letter of recommendation for his Yale application... And he'd choked.

Sure, Jeremiah had said that his last story was okay. Okay wasn't going to get him into an Ivy League school though.

He was just about the slam his laptop shut when an idea occurred to him.

The girl that worked for Noah Shapiro - she'd given him her number and told him to call if he ever had writer's block (of course, what she'd meant was "call if you ever want to take me on a date," but Dan little experience with the workings of women and the euphemism had gone way over his head). Maybe she could help.

Scrolling through the contacts on his phone, he momentarily hovered over another name, 'A Serena' (he had put an 'A' in front of her name so that she was at the top of his list), before continuing down to the 'C's. He pressed down the green button and, after three rings, she picked up.

"Hello?" She obviously wasn't expecting a call from an unknown number.

"Hey, it's Dan. Subway guy."

"Oh, hey Subway guy," she laughed at his improvised nickname.

"I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee some time?" He asked hesitantly.

"Sure, when were you thinking?"

"Oh, I don't know... around four o'clock?" He knew that it was as short notice and that the likelihood of anyone having as much free time of their hands as himself was slim, but it was worth a try.

"Someone's keen," she laughed. "You're in luck. Today is my day off."

"Fantastic. Should we meet at Café Aroma?"

"Looking forward to it," she responded sweetly before cutting him off.

.

Dan peeked at his watch impatiently as he waited in the coffee shop on 87th Street. 4.09 pm.

Cindy had opted to be casually late (although it really wasn't that casual, considering she had planned it). She didn't want to come across as being too keen. This guy was cool, and she wanted him to think she was cool too.

She was on the opposite side of the street when she noticed him sat at a table in the window and fiddling with something around his wrist. A watch, maybe?

Realising she had probably kept him waiting long enough, she made a beeline for the door.

Having gotten lost in a bit of a daydream, Dan was brought back to the present by a warm voice from behind him.

"You just couldn't wait to see me again, could you?" she asked flirtatiously as she sat down opposite him.

Dan smiled back. She really was quite pretty.

It wasn't long before the two of them were caught up in deep conversation about their favourite novelists, and films, and music, and restaurants, and museums. They were very like-minded, though they ran into tension over their opinions of Fitzgerald. Dan had audibly gasped when the words "one trick pony" had spilled out of Cindy's mouth and he'd been unable to recover from the shock ever since.

By six o'clock, they were pretty much talked out and Dan asked a waiter for the cheque.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I have to get home. Jeremiah is waiting on another story." It wasn't untrue, but it wasn't the reason he was leaving either. About half way through his second cappuccino, he'd realised that this meeting had in fact been a _date_.

In spite of his recent man-whoring ways, Dan still wasn't well-versed with women, and he felt like a complete and utter fool for this faux pas. The problem wasn't that he didn't like Cindy. In fact, it was quite the opposite. The prospect of sitting across a table discussing the reason for his current writer's block - namely, Serena - just seemed too insensitive under the circumstances. Cutting off the date seemed like the best option. He wasn't emotionally available at the moment and dragging a third party into the already messy situation was unfair.

He planned on saying goodbye and making a prompt exit from the scene before any more damage could be done. Hopefully she'd found him boring and wouldn't bother calling for a second date. Maybe she would bump into another stranger on her way back home, someone more desirable than himself.

No such luck. Cindy had actually found his awkwardness endearing and his intelligence downright sexy. She was very good at reading people and, by the end of the date, she had figured out that Dan wasn't the type of guy to initiate a first date kiss.

Just outside the door of the coffee shop, Cindy was overcome with a hitherto unknown sense of boldness. She stood up on her tiptoes and allowed her soft lips to graze lightly over his own.

The kiss was so gentle, and so fleeting, that Dan didn't even have the opportunity to break away from it. His arms hung limp at his sides as she placed both her hangs on his shoulders. Neither one of them made any attempt to deepen the kiss. He imagined that this was what every first date kiss should be like. Sweet, innocent. Just enough to leave you both wanting more.

* * *

Serena and Nate were sitting in the same spot on Cooper's Beach as they had the day before. It was early evening and the sun was in the first stages of its decent. It was an apt metaphor for how Nate was feeling, actually.

Serena could see the distress in his eyes. Usually they were so perfect, calm and bright blue. Today they were stormy.

It always broke Serena's heart to see Nate this way. All her life, he'd been the optimistic one. But, since she'd returned from boarding school, she'd noticed a change in him. All the drama with his family and the dissolution of his relationship with Blair had clearly taken its toll on him. Now there was something else to add to the laundry list of issues. She didn't know what it was and she didn't want to pry. She just wanted to help.

Nate was looking down at his hands, which were clasped together in his lap. He was repetitively clenching and unclenching them in an attempt to relieve the stress from his whole body. The movement was either alluring or irritating - perhaps a combination of both - and Serena was struck with the untameable urge to reach out for one of them.

As she threaded her fingers into his, Nate's movements started to calm. He stared down at the point where their hands were connected. It reminded him of the time he had gone to Serena after he found out about his father's drug problem, how she had momentarily taken his hand into her own before letting it fall away again, clearly worrying that she had overstepped the line by touching her best friend's boyfriend in simultaneously such an innocent and intimate way.

This time, she didn't let go. He raised his head to meet her gaze. She didn't say anything, but the look in her eyes was so tender, so kind, that it made him want to tell her everything. He was the first to speak.

"I don't know what to do, Serena."

Serena felt her heart squeeze at the helplessness in his voice.

Nate proceeded to tell Serena everything about Catherine and how she was blackmailing him. She didn't interrupt him once, not even to tell him how stupid he'd been, and he appreciated that.

"What are you going to do?" Serena asked.

"I don't know what I can do. I guess I just have to go along with what she says and hope she gets bored of toying with me soon." He sounded defeated. There was no fight left in him.

Serena felt a sudden rage whipping up inside of her. Everybody took advantage of Nate but he was too selfless and kind to put himself first. When it came down to his own happiness versus his family's happiness, Nate would always put his family first. _Who is putting Nate first? _Serena wondered. She didn't think it was fair that a seventeen year old had been forced to shoulder so much responsibility.

"No, no, you can't do that," she protested, shaking her head furiously. She wouldn't accept it. But she didn't know what she could do to help. Serena was barely even able to solve her own problems most of the time, let alone take on someone else's.

"Well, what did you have in mind?" Nate asked, desperately hoping that Serena had a plan to save the day.

She thought about it for a minute before pulling out her cell phone. "I don't know. But we just might know some people who have prior experience with vindictive stepford wives," she answered cryptically as she tapped away at the keys.

Nate eyed her with suspicion but she just smiled back reassuringly. It somewhat resembled to look Blair got when she could see a plan falling into place.

* * *

It had been four hours since Blair had spoken to Serena on the phone and it was now midnight in Paris. She'd just boarded the plane at Charles de Gaulle airport and was relaxing into the cold leather reclining seat up in first class. A breathy sigh of contentment escaped from her lips. She was going home. In just over eight hours, she'd land at JFK. In ten hours, she'd arrive at her beautiful penthouse on the Upper East Side. And in no more than thirteen hours, she'd be taking the Long Island Expressway and heading east to meet up with her best friend in the Hamptons.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" The voice from beside her shook her out of her reverie. James had a habit of doing that and Blair found it downright annoying.

"I'm fine, thank you," she lied. _I was fine, _she mentally corrected herself.

Truthfully, she couldn't even remember why he was here. Out of politeness she'd called him to tell her that she was flying home tonight and that it had been lovely meeting him. According to Serena, James had already served his purpose and she saw no reason to continue their correspondence. He was boring anyway. But, when James had started blathering on about how they should fly back together and spend the rest of their summer together in the Hamptons, she hadn't been able to think of a convincing reason why that wouldn't work. Besides, if she were able to make it through the eight hour flight without dying of boredom, it would be nice to see Chuck squirm a little more as she introduced her new faux beau to the whole Rhodes-van der Bass family.

"Good. I can't wait to meet all your family and friends," he answered enthusiastically. "So, tell me again who there is. Serena, and Eric, Nate, CeCe..." he started reeling off the names he was able to remember.

"Chuck," Blair interjected suddenly. Most of the summer it had been too painful to think about him, much less talk about him with anyone other than Serena. But, right then, she was overcome with the need to say his name. Or maybe she just didn't want to hear James say his name. Maybe it was easier to say it herself than it was to hear it from someone else. Maybe it felt wrong for her _fake_ sort-of boyfriend to smear the sanctity of _that_ name, the name of a person who was so incredibly _real_ to her.

Alas, Blair would never have admitted that fact to herself. For the most part, she'd actually taken to pretending that Chuck _wasn't_ real and that he was, for all intents and purposes, dead to her.

"Ah, yes. Who is he again?" James asked cluelessly. The question was a far more complex one than he could ever know, but at least he hadn't said the name. Blair was thankful for third person pronouns.

She was also thankful when her phone went off, allowing her to be 'accidentally' distracted from answering James's question. "I must remember to turn this off before take-off," she mumbled (fake) absent mindedly before opening the message.

_S.O.S. I have a mission for you. Get here ASAP._

Blair released an audible squeak of excitement at the prospect of a scheme brewing. She never felt more powerful, more alive, more _Blair_, than when she was plotting a take down. Except when she was with _him_, perhaps.

* * *

The two blondes had returned to CeCe's estate in pursuit of their other most valuable accomplice. Blair was the Queen of Scheme, the brains behind any operation, and the one to get the ball rolling. She was skilled in the art of reading people's weaknesses, but Chuck was the one who was able to exploit those weaknesses to his own advantage, be it through manipulation, extortion or his peerless charm. It's why Blair and Chuck made such a formidable team.

Stepping out on to the patio, Serena noticed Chuck languidly lounging, scotch in hand, by the pool. The sun had gone down about an hour ago and the bright moonlight was dancing on the chlorinated water. For the first time in months, Chuck seemed peaceful (well, maybe not exactly peaceful, but certainly less tense than he had been in a while). Not wanting to disturb him, she decided that this conversation could wait until the morning when Blair arrived. She spun on her heels to head back inside but, just as she took the first step, she heard his gruff voice.

"What do you want Serena?" The question was completely neutral. He was neither happy, nor irritated, by her presence.

"Nothing Chuck, it can wait til the morning," she answered.

Just as she was about to take another step away from him, he whipped his head round to look in her direction.

"Why, what's happening in the morning?" he asked, all traces of calmness immediately vanishing from his face and posture. The expression he wore was full of anxiety and his whole body had gone visibly rigid. He must have heard something in her inflection, a trepidation that Serena hadn't even heard herself.

She stopped dead in her tracks for a moment, not turning round to look at him, not answering his question.

He got out of the lounger and stalked towards her until his presence behind her was almost stifling. When she turned around, she was surprised to find that he was still about five metres away from her. She'd sworn she could have felt him breathing down her next just a few seconds ago.

Now that she was looking him right in the eyes, she knew she had to answer his question. Chuck was difficult to lie to, he had this natural aura that would make you want to tell him the truth even when you knew you shouldn't. Besides, he was able to sniff out a liar from a mile away. At just a few metres, she didn't stand a chance.

She hesitantly, quietly strung a sentence together. "Blair will be here tomorrow."

* * *

**Next chapter: schemes, scandal and some awesome sexy Chair goodness. Also, the return of Jenny and Eric and Dan's story starts to collide with the NJBC's.**

**Please review kind readers.**


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